So Long to Devotion
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: While Beau Maverick meeting Jack Vandergelt III could be thought of as a bizarre case of The Prince and the Pauper, this venture immediately turns deadly as Jack is being sought after by Lucrece Posey's crime syndicate. Snakes Tolliver is the one assigned to bring him in, which only further complicates matters due to his friendship with Beau.
1. Chapter 1

**Maverick**

 **So Long to Devotion**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! I decided it would be fun to have Beau meet Jack Vandergelt III. Then I wondered if I could get Snakes Tolliver, my favorite Maverick foil, into the story and this is what came out of it. This takes place some time after** _ **Send My Condolences to Good**_ **.**

 **Chapter One**

Beau Maverick rarely knew what to expect when riding into a new town. Some were welcoming, some cold, and some just plain _weird._

As he arrived in the small Western town of Bent Spoon, he barely had time to make a "What on Earth" face at the name before bullets were flying overhead. His horse reared back in shock and terror, nearly sending him to the ground in spite of his yelps and protests and desperate attempts to make the animal settle down. When the ammunition kept pelting his way and the horse absolutely panicked, it was all he could do to lean forward and hold on as it ran at full gallop down the main street, around the side of the general store, and towards the back.

"Whoa there," he heard his own voice say, even though he hadn't said a word.

He looked up with a start, only to see a man step out of the shadows and very calmly take hold of the bridle. The horse whinnied and danced, nearly flinging Beau free again, but he held fast and the newcomer gripped the bridle and spoke softly until the equine settled down.

"Thank you," Beau said in relief, carefully coming down from the saddle before any other disasters could happen. "I daresay you saved my life."

"Think nothing of it," his own voice said back to him again. "The fact of the matter is, _you_ saved _mine._ "

"What?" Beau raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"Jack Vandergelt the Third," was the reply. The newcomer stepped forward, into the light from the lantern at the back window of the general store, and Beau stared in disbelieving amazement.

"Why, we could be twins," he exclaimed.

"Yes. I'm afraid that's how you saved my life," said Jack. "They thought you were me."

"Well, I've certainly blundered into the wrong place," Beau said in exasperation. "Why do they want to kill you? And how far will I have to go to escape them?"

"In answer to your second question, I don't know," Jack admitted. "As to your first, it's a long and troublesome story. The short answer is that a dangerous crime syndicate wants my father to fall in with it and use some of his businesses to help expand it. He won't budge, so I'm the new favorite target."

Beau cringed. This was not the sort of situation he had wanted to plunge right into the middle of! "What kind of a crime syndicate is it?" he asked.

Jack started walking, still leading Beau's horse by the bridle. "They dabble in a little bit of everything, I believe. The local head is the one overseeing the attempts to either capture or kill me; I'm not sure which he's after."

Beau walked with him. "And this local head lives here?" he said in bewilderment. The town of Bent Spoon sounded like the last place a crime boss would have his headquarters.

"He owns the town," Jack said. "It's one of many under his control. He stops in sometimes when he's in the area."

"Who is he?" Beau asked.

"Snakes Tolliver."

The announcement caused Beau to stop in his tracks. "What?" In spite of himself, he was visibly shaken.

Jack stopped too. "Do you know him?"

"I . . ." Beau slowly shook his head. "Yes, I've met him." He gripped the horse's reins. "I know I shouldn't be surprised; I always knew he wouldn't give up his life of crime. But . . ." He trailed off, not really up to saying aloud that even though Snakes didn't seem to be sentimental, Beau had a hard time believing he would deliberately orchestrate the killing of a man who looked exactly like Beau. Before the adventure that had brought them together was over, Snakes had presented himself to Beau as very genuinely caring about him and respecting him. Beau even suspected Snakes had wanted a friend in Beau when he had agreed to help him when Bart had been grieviously wounded. They had parted from that experience as friends in Beau's mind.

"Oh, he's not someone to cross. My wife has actually tried to get Father to just give in and let the syndicate do what they want if the alternative is my being harmed." Jack sighed. "But he's bound and determined to not be intimidated. I'm going to have to stand up to them and fight back the next time they come around. They might harm my wife if they can't get to me."

"Is she here with you?" Beau frowned.

"At the hotel. She wasn't going to leave me to deal with this madness alone." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "I wish she'd stayed back home, but on the other hand, that would have certainly made her a more available target."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Beau exclaimed. "Why march right into the lions' den?"

"It wasn't deliberate, I can assure you," Jack insisted. "I was in the area checking on some of Father's and my investments before I knew someone was after me. There's a gold mine around here and we own one of the companies selling supplies to the miners."

"Well, that's one way to turn a profit without breaking your back," Beau mused.

"The only way when it comes to mining," Jack declared. "Nothing else is sure."

"I can't argue with that," said Beau. "When did you realize someone was after you?"

"Before I arrived here in Bent Spoon, there were two attempts to catch me," Jack said. "My father received a warning note after each of them. My wife Lydia and I tried to get away, but someone sabotaged the stage and stranded us here."

"And how did you learn about Snakes' involvement?" Beau pressed.

"Everyone in town talks about him," Jack sighed. "Apparently he got this town on its feet. And he sent the notes to my father and signed them with a drawing of a snake, his trademark. He sent another tonight, saying that I had landed right at his doorstep, so to speak, and it wouldn't be long now."

"The notes could be forged," Beau objected.

"I suppose, but Snakes _is_ prominent in this area and I'm sure I've seen the men who attacked me walking with him," Jack said.

"This must ultimately be the doing of that mysterious boss of Snakes'," Beau decided. "Before you do anything more, I'd like to try to have a talk with him. Is he staying in town right now?"

"He's at the largest house in town," Jack said in surprise. "But you can't go there; you won't get within ten yards of it before you'll be captured or killed in my stead! I can't let you do that."

"I'll go around from the back and call to Snakes," Beau determined. "He won't harm me, really. Not if he knows it's me."

Jack looked doubtful. "He'd harm you all the more! If the order is to kill me, he'd kill you and present you to my father and his boss."

"I don't believe that," Beau insisted. "Anyway, if he did that, he'd know you could always come out and expose his plan. Unless he would think you'd run for the hills and just let your father think you were dead to save yourself."

Jack flinched. "He might think that, but I wouldn't. Look, I really don't want you sticking your neck out for me any more than you already have."

"It isn't for you so much as it is for myself," Beau frowned. "I considered Snakes my friend. I want to know what's going on and if there's any way to convince him not to go through with it."

Jack shook his head. "You're insane if you think you have a chance."

"I've heard that before. Look after my horse, won't you? I'll pick him up at the hotel or wherever it is you're staying." Beau let go of the reins and moved to walk on ahead.

"I guess there's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. Alright, he'll be at the hotel." Jack paused. "You know, I never got your name."

Beau half-turned. "Beau Maverick."

To his surprise, Jack's eyes widened. "Maverick? Are you any relation to a Bret Maverick?"

"Why, yes," Beau blinked. "He's my cousin."

That brought a smile. "He's one of the finest men I've ever met. I'm sure you're of the same high caliber."

Beau flushed. "Just stay safe and I'll talk to Snakes," he said, not really wanting to talk about himself.

Jack nodded. "I'll do what I can. Thank you, Beau Maverick."

Beau faded into the shadows, barely processing Jack's farewell. He was caught up in worried thoughts of Snakes and what could have happened in the weeks since they had bade each other Goodbye upon Bart's recovery.

Most people, Bret and Bart included, were concerned about Beau's affection for the crooked gambler and crime boss. Beau himself had taken some time to warm up to Snakes. But Bart's recovery from a serious stab wound had been long and grueling and Beau had had many opportunities to talk with Snakes during that time. He felt that he shared a certain understanding and kinship with the life-long outcast Snakes that his cousins did not. As the daring and adventurous and even courageous Maverick, the one who had been banished for five years because of inadvertently winning a medal during the War Between the States, Beau often felt detached from the rest of the family. Snakes had picked up on that, and although at first he had tried to manipulate Beau into joining him, he had given that up and instead had just made himself available if Beau wanted company or to talk. Even Bret had determined that Snakes had ended up honestly caring about Beau instead of persisting in a more subtle manipulation.

So Beau determined to still believe in Snakes now, no matter how bad it looked. If Snakes _was_ involved, maybe Beau would be able to convince him to stop this plot. If not, well . . .

Beau heaved a sigh. He didn't want to think about that.

It wasn't hard finding the house in question; most of Bent Spoon's homes were much smaller and Snakes' stood out from all the rest. Beau slipped around the back way, as he had promised, and crept underneath the windows until he came to one with a light in it. Then he slowly rose, just enough to see into the room. When he caught sight of Snakes alone and leaning on the fireplace mantle with one arm, he perked up. Snakes looked upset or even conflicted; Beau wanted to believe that he did not want to do as his mysterious boss deemed necessary.

"Snakes!" Beau hissed, hoping he was loud enough to be heard through the window.

Snakes leaped a mile. "Huh?! What?!"

"Snakes, it's me, Beau Maverick!" Beau persisted. "I need to talk to you!"

Snakes cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at the closed door before he approached the window and raised the sash. "You're crazy coming here," he snapped. "If my men saw you . . . !"

"They'd shoot me down in cold blood?" Beau supplied as he climbed through the window.

"That isn't supposed to be the plan," Snakes said sullenly.

"And it isn't _your_ plan at all, is it?" Beau pounced.

Snakes shut the window and pulled the curtains. "No, it isn't," he admitted. "I'm not the big boss; I answer to the chairman of the board."

"That makes it sound like your syndicate is a business," Beau remarked.

"That's what it is," Snakes said impatiently. "Look, Beau, I didn't want you hurt. As soon as my men came and told me they'd opened fire on Vandergelt riding into town, I feared the worst. Vandergelt's _already_ in town, so someone riding in could only be you."

"But you didn't go outside to look," Beau frowned.

"They said you'd got away. I gave them a real chewing out, but I didn't mention that you look just like Vandergelt even though you aren't him." Snakes looked at Beau with fear in his eyes as well as desperation. "If I'd said that, they would've suggested taking you in his place, since he's proving so hard to catch."

"Oh Snakes." Beau sank down at the desk in the room. "What have you gotten yourself into? You're afraid of your own men now?"

"Nah, not really." Snakes plunked down on another chair, looking dejected and weary. "I'm just afraid of what they'll tell the chairman if I don't do exactly as I'm supposed to."

"They're supposed to be loyal to you, not him," Beau objected.

"Her," Snakes interjected with a dark smirk. "The chairman's a chairwoman."

Beau's eyes widened. "Oh. Well, regardless, they're not supposed to answer to her."

"She wants to make sure everyone is loyal. And maybe it's my imagination, but I think she's had her eye on me for some time as the weak link in her chain. It'd be just like her to pay my men to spy on me." Snakes propped himself up on the back of the chair.

Beau sighed. "The only way you could be a weak link to her is because you're too good a person to be in a situation like this. You were working with her when I first met you, but not when Bret first met you. How on Earth did it happen?"

Snakes shrugged helplessly. "She and her second-in-command were impressed with everything I'd managed to do, collecting towns and all, and she offered me a position on her board. I'm one of her six regional leaders."

Beau slumped back. "I think I'm in over my head. I know _you_ are."

"I liked it better when I was my own boss," Snakes admitted, sounding a little bitter. "But her offer sounded pretty good to me when she made it, and like an idiot I walked into it. Now I can't get out." He ran a hand over his face. "And I don't know what to do about you or Vandergelt."

Beau watched him carefully. "What is it you're supposed to do with Vandergelt?"

"Take him in and hold him hostage until Mr. Vandergelt Senior agrees to help the syndicate." Snakes looked morosely across the room. "There wouldn't be any point in killing him; then his father would only be all the more adamant about not going along. His son's the only thing he has to lose besides his businesses."

"Alright then." Beau took a deep breath. "I'll try to think of something to help the Vandergelts and keep you out of hot water at the same time."

Snakes snarked. "There's nothing you could do unless you'd decide to play hostage, and I don't figure on you wanting the senior Vandergelt to fall in with organized crime."

"No, I don't," Beau said. "There has to be another way."

"Well, if you find it, Pal, let me know." Snakes got up from the chair. "I'm going to have a drink."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, go ahead," Beau said with a distracted wave of his hand.

"You're still following the Maverick code of no alcohol, I'm guessing," Snakes said.

"Yes," Beau nodded. "It's really far more beneficial to not end up with hangovers. I see no purpose in that."

Snakes shrugged. "There's not. I try not to drink that much, unless there's extenuating circumstances.

"So what are _you_ doing in Bent Spoon?" he asked as he poured a glass of wine from a decanter.

"Purely coincidental," Beau said. "You know us Mavericks: going anywhere on a whim, stopping at whatever little town is closest after night falls. . . ."

"Yeah, I know," Snakes grunted. He set the decanter aside and leaned on the cabinet, sipping the wine.

"How on Earth did this town come to be named Bent Spoon, anyway?" Beau exclaimed. "I've heard of a town in New Mexico called Bent Fork, but somehow that just doesn't sound as outlandish."

"Of course not, since a fork can also be a split path in the road," Snakes said sardonically. "A spoon is always just a piece of silverware. I think it got its name because the first guy to settle here sat on his spoon and bent it."

Beau winced. "I had to ask."

Snakes smirked but then sobered. "All this trouble aside, it's good to see you again, Beau. I can't say that about your cousin, but you, you're a different story."

"I feel the same about you, Snakes," Beau said. "And I think Cousin Bret is fond of you in spite of himself."

Snakes laughed. "I doubt it. He'd probably be ready to tan my hide if he knew the trouble you walked into by coming here."

That brought a sigh. It really was a terrible situation from all angles. What, Beau wondered, could they do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Jack Vandergelt the Third was nervous. He paced about the hotel room, periodically crossing to the window and looking out at the dark night below. Then he snapped the curtain back into place just as quickly and turned away.

"Van?"

He turned at the sound of his wife's worried voice. Lydia had just entered from the bath, clad in a robe and towel, and looked highly concerned. "Van, what's wrong? You've been looking out that window ever since we got here. If those men who are after you don't already know you're here, you're certainly going to alert them!"

"Of course they know I'm here," Jack retorted in frustration. "They sabotaged our stage so we'd be stuck here!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lydia. I don't mean to be short with you." His shoulders slumped. "I'm worried about the man they were shooting at in my place."

"What?!" Lydia hurried over to him, her wet hair forgotten. "What man?"

"Beau Maverick," Jack sighed. "The insane thing is, he looks just like me!"

"Maverick?!" Lydia wailed. "Like that Bret Maverick friend of yours?"

"Now, don't be too hard on him, Lydia," Jack pleaded. "He did help bring us together. And yes, this is his cousin."

Lydia slumped back. "It figures we'd run into another Maverick." She frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I could just let him take the fall for me, but I've never been quite _that_ ruthless," Jack said. "He went to talk with the man behind this whole mess. He said the man was a friend of his and might listen to him. He should have been back by now!"

Lydia sighed. "There's nothing you can do about it, Van." She started to run her hands over his shoulders. "It's late. Come to bed."

"I could go out looking for him," Jack retorted.

"No!" Lydia wailed. "Then you'd be found and killed!"

"It would still be the noble thing to do," Jack said.

"Forget that! I care more about keeping you alive," Lydia declared. "I could have lost you in that silly duel with Lucius. That was horrible!"

Jack had to smile a bit to himself. Lydia still loved her books, but she had started to learn that they weren't always the best thing to turn to when wondering about real-life. That was good. Jack appreciated books himself and had found them a solace during the long, lonely hours of his early life. But although they intrigued him, and although he had felt a kinship to Lydia because of their shared love of them, he had tried to not think of them as absolute reality.

"What should I do then?" he asked. "Just let him be caught or killed?"

"No," Lydia sighed. "But there must be some other solution than giving yourself up."

"I wish I knew what and I would do it," Jack said dryly.

A knock on the door startled them both. Then, tense, Jack slowly approached the door. "Who is it?"

"Beau Maverick," came an echoing voice from outside.

Lydia stopped and stared as Jack hurriedly opened the door and admitted a second Jack. "Why, Van really wasn't kidding!" she exclaimed. "This is just like a situation that could happen in a book! And if there isn't already such a book, someone should write it!"

Jack looked embarrassed. "You'll have to excuse my wife," he told Beau. "She likes to compare reality with novels."

"That's . . . quite alright," Beau said awkwardly. "It _is_ a ridiculous situation; I can imagine someone writing a comedy about it. Anyway, I'm sorry to call on you so late. I've just come from Snakes Tolliver's."

"So you really know him?" Lydia frowned, coming around a chair to stand directly in front of Beau. "You must be as much of a character as he is. A criminal, too."

"Lydia!" Jack exclaimed.

"It _could_ look that way," Beau admitted. "But no, I am not a criminal. I met Snakes when my cousin Bart was badly wounded and we took refuge, entirely by accident, in a town Snakes controls. He came upon us and helped us and we were at his mansion in town for several weeks. During that time I became quite close to him."

"Which is understandable," Jack interjected. "What happened tonight?"

"Well, I was right that this plan wasn't his idea," Beau said. "He's operating under the orders of his boss. Luckily, they don't want you dead. But they _do_ want to hold you as a hostage to force your father to cooperate."

"How beastly!" Lydia fumed.

"Snakes really doesn't want to go through with it," Beau said. "He doesn't like working under someone else. He's in over his head and I promised to help him as well as you." He looked to Jack.

"And how are you going to accomplish that?" Jack asked warily.

"Well, I've been thinking about it on the way back over here and I do have a plan," Beau said. "For the time being, let's confuse the people after you."

"How so?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"We'll both go around town. No one but Snakes knows that I merely resemble you but am not you. So you will seem to be in two places at once."

Lydia stared at him. "That's madness!"

"But it might work," Jack mused. "If we dress you like me, of course."

"And if none of my family show up," Beau muttered.

"It won't help anything long-term," Jack said. "But maybe if we could just stall for time a little bit longer. Do you think Snakes would give you some more information about his boss?"

"I told him I'd need to know more," Beau said. "He's reluctant to talk. Naturally he would be; if his boss learns he's talked, he'll be marked for death. He told me to come back in the morning and I'd have his answer."

Lydia looked cautiously hopeful. "If he's like you say, maybe he's a bad man with a heart of gold and he will sacrifice himself to save you, his friend!"

"Or maybe cowardice and selfishness will win out in the end and he won't do anything," Jack returned.

"I'm hoping more for a middle ground," Beau said. "I don't want him hurt."

"Well," Jack said, "we'll worry about that later. Let's focus on dressing you for the part, if you're to pass as me tomorrow." He crossed to the armoire and opened it, looking through the available outfits.

Beau slowly walked over to look as well. "I should probably go wash up in the bath," he said. "It was a long ride to this town." He couldn't quite bring himself to say its name.

"Oh. Yes, you should," Jack said. "Here, you can take these in with you." He handed Beau some clothing off the rack. "The room next-door is empty and there's a connecting door between it and here. You can stay in there tonight." He paused. "But what, exactly, are we hoping to accomplish with this charade? We'll need to do more than stall for time."

"Somehow we need to make your father's businesses undesirable to the crime syndicate," Beau said. "Exactly how to do that without blackening his reputation is something I haven't quite worked out yet. But if Snakes will tell us more about his boss, that might help us figure out how her mind works."

"Her?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

To his dismay, Lydia looked intrigued. "A woman in charge of a crime syndicate? She's really progressing with the times."

"Lydia!" Jack scolded. "She's responsible for all kinds of depravity!"

Lydia made a face. "I know. And I can't forgive her for wanting to hurt you, Van. But I'd like to see what a woman like that looks like. Maybe talk to her for a while."

"I doubt there would be any hope of reasoning with her," Jack frowned. "And I don't want you anywhere near her on general principle! She might decide to hold _you_ hostage if she discovered you're my wife!"

"She'd find it wouldn't be so easy to hold _me_ hostage!" Lydia declared, her hands flying to her hips. "I'd stand up to her all the way!"

Beau started to back towards the door. "Well, while you two sort out the pros and cons of speaking to a female crime boss, I am going to take a bath and go to bed. Goodnight."

Jack looked up, distracted. "Goodnight, Mr. Maverick. And thank you."

Beau gave an awkward nod and stepped into the hall with his armful of clothes. _What,_ he wondered morosely, _have I gotten myself into?_

xxxx

It was pleasant to wash away the dust of the latest trip. Beau closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his arms along the edge of the tub. His hair slipped over his right eye, but he didn't try to push it back.

He winced slightly at the realization that the scar from the old bullet wound was touching the tub. Sometimes it throbbed, usually when bad weather was approaching, but also sometimes when he had been laying funny or when he couldn't explain the reason. He wondered now and then if it had truly healed properly, but since there was never any other discomfort, he really believed that it had.

He had been extremely lucky overall; not only had he lived and thrived, but the bullet hadn't hit his spine, a lung, or anything else vital. For some time he had suffered with emotional damage, but by now he felt that those feelings had mostly eased.

And what would happen to him now? Even though he was the most daring of the Mavericks, he still didn't want to get into a situation where he was likely to die. And he had the responsibility of looking out for the Vandergelts and Snakes as well. How would he ever come up with a solution that would save them all?

When he had dried and clothed himself, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever he might find back in the Vandergelts' room. But to his relief they had quieted down and were both asleep, so he moved quietly to the connecting door and slipped into the next room.

There was so much to think about that he doubted sleep would come easily. In that he was mistaken; he dozed off within moments of lying down.

xxxx

The Vandergelts were awake and up and having breakfast in their room when Beau awoke the following morning and wandered through the connecting door again.

"Oh, good morning, old chap," Jack greeted, waving a butter knife in Beau's general direction. "Are you hungry? I tried to order enough for three."

Beau blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Food sounds good. Thank you." He nodded to Lydia. "Good morning, Mrs. Vandergelt."

"Good morning, Mr. Maverick," she responded with a fairly friendly smile and a nod.

"It suddenly occurs to me that I never got around to having dinner last night," Beau remarked as he came to the table and sat down.

"It _was_ rather hard to think of food then, wasn't it?" Jack mused. "Well, the day is fresh and new and hopefully our mad plan will work the way we want it to."

"After breakfast I'll go back to Snakes' house as promised and see if he's made his decision yet," Beau said. He spread a napkin on his lap and reached for the bread and bacon.

"I hope he'll prove to be the bad man with a heart of gold," Lydia declared.

"Don't we all," Beau said. "He already is that, though."

"You're sure you won't be walking into a trap by going back?" Jack frowned.

"I'm sure," Beau said firmly. He buttered the bread and spread some of the bacon strips across it. "Snakes is a dear friend of mine. You might not think it, but he values ties that he feels are genuine."

"And what if he doesn't feel they're genuine?" Lydia asked.

". . . He has no compunction about betraying them," Beau slowly admitted.

"Well, let's hope he will always consider your friendship true," Jack said.

Beau paused, regarding his double in wonder. "You know, it didn't occur to me last night, but now I have to wonder," he said. "It's uncanny that we not only look alike, we have the exact same voice. I spent five years in England, even though I was born in Texas. My uncle, whom I was named for, was rather appalled when I returned."

"He didn't like the accent?" Lydia asked.

"Or the mannerisms or the culture," Beau said with a bit of a rueful smile. "He said he hadn't helped raise his nephew to become part of the British high-class. But he's grown used to it now. Of course, he had little choice; my accent has never faded now that I'm back."

"It was seven years for me," Jack said. "I suppose I was lucky that my father didn't mind a half-British son so much. It's interesting how we brought a piece of England home with us, isn't it?"

"Very," said Beau. "America is still home, but I consider England to be home as well."

Jack raised his glass of orange juice. "Here's to multiple homes."

Lydia and Beau clinked glasses with him. "Hear hear," said Beau.

They ate for several moments in silence before Lydia turned to Beau with curiosity. "So tell me, Mr. Maverick. What's it like traveling the country, gambling wherever you stop, never knowing what's around the next corner? Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Sometimes," Beau admitted. "But I've found that most people are by and large welcoming and kind. And my cousins are only a telegram away. We always make sure to let each other know where we're going, just in case one of us needs help."

"Are you going to tell them you're here?" Jack asked.

Beau paused. "I hate to keep it from them, but in order for our scheme to work, they can't know I'm here."

"What will they do if they need your help?" Lydia worried.

"They'll cable my last known address," Beau said. "And of course, that won't be any help to them." He sighed. "Hopefully they won't need my help. We've already got quite a situation here without confusing it even further."

It _was_ a problem he had been thinking about, however. Ever since the shooting, the boys had tried to keep in contact with each other more than before. If Beau could not be reached and several days went by, Bret and Bart would start to worry. He really needed to get a message to them somehow that he was alright.

Maybe, he hoped, Snakes would be willing to send one for him.

xxxx

Before Beau put on Jack's clothes to begin the charade, he attired himself in fresh clothes of his own to go to Snakes'. In the daylight with his hat pulled low, it was unlikely he would be mistaken for Jack when not dressed like him. Still, he kept mostly to alleys and side streets until he reached the mansion and went around to the window from before. He had agreed with Snakes last night to meet in the same room.

Snakes was ready and waiting. He threw up the sash as soon as he saw Beau arriving, his eyes filled with worry and nervousness. "You're late," he scolded.

"Sorry," Beau replied as he climbed in. "I didn't eat dinner last night and I made up for it with breakfast."

Snakes shut the window after him and pulled the curtains. "Did you figure out what you could do?"

"Only partially," said Beau. "To stall for time, I can temporarily pretend to be Vandergelt. We'll both go around town, seemingly in two places at once, and confuse your men."

Snakes shook his head. "You're nuts."

"I've been told that before," Beau said. "It may be true, but it's also true that we wouldn't be in this mess if not for your deeper forays into crime."

That brought a grimace. "I know, I know. I'd take over the syndicate if I could. Then I'd be top dog again."

Beau shot him a Look. "And just how would you do that? By murdering your boss?"

Snakes shrugged. "There's other ways. I wouldn't have to kill her. Although that _would_ fix up the problem permanently so she couldn't come back to haunt me later."

"Do you really think the other board members would follow you?" Beau frowned. "They may have more loyalty to her than you do."

"Haven't you ever heard there's no honor among thieves?" Snakes said dryly. "People like that'll follow whoever's in charge."

"Oh Snakes." Beau shook his head. "Well, nevermind this for now. What did you decide about giving me the information about her?"

Terror flashed through Snakes' eyes. "I don't know what to decide," he admitted. "I want to help you. I know this is all my fault. But I don't want word to get back to her that I've talked. No one would even necessarily have to say I said anything; she'd just put the pieces together. It'd be easy enough for her to find out that you and I know each other, and that you rode into town and got caught up in this mess, and from that she'd figure out that I'm the one who caused everything to fall apart."

Beau sighed. "Well, can you at least think of anything Mr. Vandergelt Senior could do to make his businesses less desirable to her?"

Snakes paced the floor. "I was up half the night thinking about that. It's specific businesses she wants. Maybe if it looked like he didn't own them anymore, she'd back off. Say he made it look like a dummy corporation bought them out. She'd try to find out who owns those corporations and just go around in circles. Maybe in the process of all that, she'd slip up."

"It sounds risky," Beau frowned. "Especially since I imagine that in the end, Mr. Vandergelt Senior would be the owner of the dummy corporations."

"Yeah," Snakes nodded. "But that'd be buried under so much red tape and so many fake names that it'd take a long time to get to the truth of it."

"He'd surely have to tell his board of directors about the plan so they wouldn't think he was taking it upon himself to sell those businesses," Beau said.

"The only problem with that is, I'm not so sure he doesn't have someone on his board who's working for my boss," Snakes said. "It seems like when these kind of things happen, there's often an inside man helping to pull the strings."

"Well, that's not good." Beau leaned against the wall. "And he might not believe it if we told him we suspect one of his directors."

"Maybe you could make it look like Vandergelt didn't have any say about being bought out," Snakes said.

"But that would mean making it look like his businesses are in serious trouble," Beau objected. "Aside from the fact that he wouldn't want that, it wouldn't even be believable."

"Not necessarily," Snakes replied. "How about if somebody pops up with a document no one previously knew existed, showing that the last owner didn't have any right to sell to Vandergelt and these businesses are theirs?"

"Snakes, you are a devil," Beau commented. "But I wonder if there's any chance it might work. Not long-term, perhaps, but long enough to resolve this mess and turn your boss's interests to something else."

"I say it's worth a try," Snakes said. "Tell the other Vandergelt and maybe he can get a message to his father to come down. If he's not already on his way."

"I'll do that." Beau turned back to the window, feeling a smidgen of hope at last. "By the way, I need to get a message to Bret and Bart so that they won't get worried and come looking for me. Could you send a wire to them from Willow Tree Junction? That's where I was before this."

Snakes didn't look pleased at the prospect, but he said, "Okay. We sure don't need them blundering into this. Where are they?"

"Bret is in Virginia City, Nevada and Bart is in Stockton, California," Beau replied.

Snakes scrawled that down on a notepad on his desk. "You'd better give me the exact words you want. They'd probably be able to tell if it doesn't sound like you."

"Just say 'All is well. I can still be reached at Willow Tree Junction for the next several days. Beau.'"

"Alright." Snakes quickly wrote that down too. "I'll find a way to get it sent today. But how are you going to check back in case they send something?"

"I guess I'll have to get out of town every other day or so and go back there," Beau said. "Hopefully this won't take long."

"Hopefully," Snakes grunted.

"Anyway, thank you, Snakes," Beau smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, sure," Snakes said gruffly. "You just be careful, you hear?"

"I will," Beau called over his shoulder as he opened the window.

Snakes watched him climb outside and pull the window shut after him. Then, sighing, he crossed back to his desk and sat down, taking out a cigar. " _You_ can count on me," he muttered as he lit it, "but can _I_ count on me? I'm gonna burn for this, I just know it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

John Vandergelt the Second was furious. He stomped about his hotel room, his thick brows knit in his rage as he waved a telegram for his visitor to see.

"Look at what insanity Jack has got himself into now!" he roared. "Some mad plan to turn the criminals away from Jack and my businesses by making it look like I don't legally own the ones the syndicate wants!"

"Well," drawled his guest, "that doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me."

"Of course you wouldn't think so," Vandergelt grumped. "Actually, it might not be, if it would work as intended. The question is, could it?"

"It would have to be pretty convincing," said his visitor.

"Yes," Vandergelt agreed. "The person presenting the false documents about someone else owning the companies would have to be convincing." He advanced on the man. "Slimy, sleazy, a smooth-talker."

His guest gave an uncomfortable smile. "Well, I'm sure you've got plenty of lawyers who'd fit the bill."

Vandergelt stiffened. "Blast it, man, I don't know whom I can trust among my lawyers or anyone else in the company! I'm going out to Bent Spoon myself and I need someone I can trust going with me! You're Jack's friend; that's why I called you here. I know I can trust you."

Bret Maverick nervously shifted about. "Well, I'd like to help Van and all, I really would. But I don't know about playing a lawyer."

"It shouldn't be that different from being a gambler, really," Vandergelt retorted. "You're smooth, oh so very smooth."

"Yes, but I don't really know all the proper legal jargon and that sort of thing," Bret protested. "I'd be spotted as a fake immediately."

"Not with a little coaching on the trip," Vandergelt insisted. "And naturally I wouldn't expect you to do this for free, since there is some element of risk involved." He walked back to his desk and took out his checkbook. "What would you say to two thousand dollars, deposited immediately in any bank of your choice?"

Bret stared, his eyes as wide as saucers. "I'd say you've just bought yourself another lawyer."

xxxx

Beau tugged uncomfortably on the collar of his shirt. Dressing like Jack was an odd experience in and of itself, but even stranger was going about town and acting properly stuffy and upper-class. Beau knew well enough how to play the part of an Englishman, but an American businessman and socialite with an English accent was another matter entirely. But he must not be doing too badly; wherever he went, they seemed to accept him as Jack. On the other hand, they hadn't seen much of Jack to compare him with.

In every place he entered, it was the same: go in, play the part, and hang around long enough to be spotted. Whenever he saw someone heading towards the establishment with determination and purpose, he backed out, just in case they were coming after him. On the other side of town, he knew Jack was doing the same thing. It had been a very long day of running around Bent Spoon; by now Beau was sure he had memorized every building and every house. It was a relief the day was almost over. Then he could stop the game for a few hours and relax back at the hotel.

Jack had sent a cable to his father that morning and had received the reply that he wasn't far away and would be coming out. They had expected and hoped for that.

What neither of them had expected was that he might not arrive alone.

It was Beau's misfortune to be in front of the general store when the evening stage arrived. John Vandergelt the Second got out first, looking every bit as stern as Jack had said he was. He didn't know of the plan to have two Jacks running around town, so Beau tried to quickly duck out of sight. He could fool townspeople who had never seen Jack for more than a moment, but he had no hope of fooling Jack's father and no desire to try.

He nearly went sheet-white when he started to turn around at the side of the building and bumped into a strangely bespectacled Bret.

"Van?!" Bret exclaimed. "What the heck are you doing walking around in broad daylight? That's dangerous! You should have stayed at the hotel and waited for your father to get here!"

"Oh . . ." Beau's mind raced. Bret was fooled for the moment, but it would only take a few minutes of conversation for him to realize the truth. Beau had to decide: should he let Bret in on the truth or keep up the charade?

Vandergelt quickly made up his mind. "Jack, for Heaven's sake!" he boomed as he came up behind Bret. "Don't you have any sense at all? There's men out to get you!"

Beau swiftly recovered from his shock. "I'm sorry, Father," he said. "I . . . thought I'd come meet your stage."

"Bah! How would you know I'd arrive on this stage?" Vandergelt grumped. "I might not have made it until tomorrow!"

"He's got a good point there, Van," said Bret.

Beau shifted nervously. "Bret, I . . ."

"Oh, you remember Mr. Bret, I see," Vandergelt said with a warning tone to his voice. "He finished law school and came onboard as one of my lawyers."

" _Mr._ Bret," Beau repeated. "Your lawyer." His stomach was swiftly sinking. "Yes, I . . . of course I remember him, Father. Yes. We were . . . very good friends, weren't we, Bret?"

"Very," said Bret, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, why don't you just come along to the hotel and stay there with your little wife while we go see Mr. Tolliver about some business."

Beau cringed. "He's going to love _that._ " He really quite hated to think how Snakes would react when Bret walked through the door of his home. Snakes had never forgiven Bret for breaking his hold over several of the towns Snakes owned. While Snakes was very fond of Beau, any such amiability was absent where it came to Bret.

Bret looked like he was trying not to cringe too. "Well, all's fair in love and business. Now come on, Van." He started to draw an arm around Beau's shoulders.

Beau quickly slipped away. "I'll meet you there," he said. "It's only a short walk. Nothing will happen in the middle of the day." He stepped back into the alley.

"Jack!" Vandergelt yelled. "Jack, you come back here right now! JACK!" He ran forward to follow Beau into the alley, but Beau had already ducked into the back door of the general store and vanished.

Bret followed him to the side of the building. "Is it just me or was Van acting stranger than usual?"

"Bah!" Vandergelt cried. "He must have some other hair-brained scheme we don't even know about yet!"

Bret rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, maybe we should go see his wife before calling on Mr. Tolliver. He's not exactly going to be jumping for joy to see us."

"Nevermind Lydia!" Vandergelt snapped. "She's an idiotic dreamer. But she's a nice girl and she has seven million dollars to boot. She was a perfect match for Jack." He turned away from the alley. "Let's go on to see Mr. Tolliver. If we keep him occupied and get him to believe this document, maybe he'll call off the search for Jack."

Bret sighed. "Okay. You're running the show." But he couldn't help the nagging feeling that something just wasn't adding up.

Beau waited until he heard their footsteps fade away before coming out of the stock room and back into the alley. "That was close," he said to himself. "Now let's hope they don't run into Jack before they find Snakes." His eyes went wide in horror at the thought. "What am I saying?!"

xxxx

John Vandergelt Senior ranted all the way across town to Snakes' mansion.

"What could have gotten into my son?!" he roared. "He knows he's supposed to stay out of sight. I expressly told him that in my return cable!"

"Maybe he didn't read it all the way through?" Bret suggested.

"Oh, he's always been reckless and unorthodox! But I don't have to tell you that. You remember his courtship with Lydia!"

Bret winced. "I could never forget it, even though I try sometimes."

"Why, it wouldn't surprise me if he decides . . . here now! There he is again!"

"Huh?" Bret turned, facing in the direction Vandergelt was pointing. A familiar figure was now coming towards them from the direction in which they were going.

"How on Earth did he get ahead of us?!" Vandergelt screamed.

"Darned if I know," Bret said, pushing back his hat. Louder he yelled, "Hey, Van! You said you were going right back to the hotel!"

Jack stopped in front of him, looking very puzzled indeed. "What? Bret, whatever are you doing here? And when did you start wearing spectacles?"

"Jack, for the love of Heaven, don't play games!" Vandergelt yelled. "To hear you, you'd think we hadn't just run into each other in the last half-hour!"

Jack paused, fully taking in the situation. "Oh," he said in realization. "Of course we did. Don't mind me, Father; it's been a long and stressful day."

"Well, you shouldn't have spent it outside!" Vandergelt scolded. "You know assassins are after you! Show a little intelligence, Son!"

"Frankly, Father, I've kept them so busy all day long that by now I doubt they know up from down." Jack tipped his top hat. "And now that you're here, I believe I _will_ go back to the hotel. Lydia must be worried sick." He looked to Bret. "It's good to see you again, Bret, although I certainly wasn't expecting it."

"Yeah," Bret said slowly. "I wasn't expecting it either. See you around, Van."

Vandergelt stared after his son, slowly shaking his head. "I just don't know what gets into that boy sometimes," he declared.

"Me either," Bret said, but he was only half-listening. Something still wasn't right; he just knew it.

"Well, this must be that Tolliver character's house," Vandergelt said after they had turned onto another street and walked to the corner. "There aren't any other houses comparable in size."

"That's his style, alright," Bret agreed. "He always goes for the biggest and best."

They climbed onto the porch and Bret rang the doorbell. When the door was opened by a stern-faced brute, Bret shrank back out of self-preservation.

Vandergelt took over the talking duties. "We're here to see Mr. Tolliver," he announced. "I'm John Vandergelt the Second and this is my lawyer, Mr. Bret."

The thug nodded without recognition. "The boss is in," he said. "Go down that hall to the door at the end."

"Thank you." Vandergelt marched past and down the corridor, Bret right on his heels.

 _I've got to be grateful that Snakes has different men in every city,_ Bret gulped. _Otherwise that guy would've picked me out._

Vandergelt knocked when they arrived at the door in question. "Come in," called a voice that was all too familiar to Bret. As Vandergelt opened the door, Bret silently prayed that Snakes wouldn't let on that they knew each other. Things were already awkward enough.

Snakes was sitting at his desk when the doors opened. "Mr. Vandergelt," he greeted. "I heard you were coming." He got up and came around the desk to shake the man's hand. As he did, Bret came into view. Snakes went absolutely rigid.

"Good evening, Mr. Tolliver," Bret drawled. "I'm Mr. Vandergelt's lawyer, Mr. Bret. We came right out to talk about the situation with the young Mr. Vandergelt. We've got some information right here that should change the picture quite a bit."

"Yeah?" Snakes regarded him warily. "Shut the door."

Bret complied. "If you'll just sit back down at your desk, I'll show you what I dug up going through our acquired companies' records."

Snakes walked back across the room. " _Mr._ Bret, you say," he said, unable to fully keep the sneer out of his voice.

"That's right," Bret said.

If Vandergelt noticed anything odd in their exchanges, he didn't speak of it. "Your boss wanted several of the Vandergelt businesses in exchange for leaving my son alone," he said. "My lawyer tells me that's impossible."

Bret nodded. "If you'll look right here," he said, taking out the document Vandergelt had personally drawn up, "you'll see that Mr. Vandergelt doesn't actually own those businesses after all. It's the previous owner who still owned them. And he's dead now, God rest his soul. With no heirs, all those businesses reverted back to the state. Or they did, anyway, until they were bought up at auction by these corporations here."

Snakes looked at the made-up names. "And just how did news of all this stay out of the papers?" he asked. "This is big stuff."

"Well, there's no fault on the part of Mr. Vandergelt," Bret said, lowering the eyeglasses. "He bought all of these companies in good faith. These other companies here . . ." He pulled out another document and pointed to a line. "They claimed to be the rightful owners and everything seemed to be in order when we checked it out. It was only then that Mr. Vandergelt bought them."

"But now we've learned that those companies were never the rightful owners," Vandergelt said. "It was an elaborate and well-planned swindle!"

Snakes leaned back, lacing his fingers. "It all seems pretty convenient," he said, "that all of this would come to light right when my boss wants your businesses."

"But you see, we were looking into what we'd have to do in order to hand them over," Vandergelt said. "We likely wouldn't have learned about this error for some time had we not done that! Someone in the company has been furthering the farce and including those businesses' revenue on our accounts, just as though we actually do own them!" He looked at Snakes with genuine agony; neither he nor Bret knew that this had actually been Snakes' idea to begin with. "Please, contact your boss and let her know of the situation!"

Snakes gave a slow nod. "I guess I could do that. I'll have one of my men run down to the telegraph office and wire her right now. But let me tell you, she is not gonna be happy about this."

"Well, neither are we, Mr. Tolliver," Bret said smoothly. "We were hoping we could clear everything up nice and easy. We don't want poor Mr. Vandergelt's son in danger any more. We were willing to cooperate about the businesses in question, until we found that we really don't have any legal claim on them after all."

"I'll make sure to tell her that," Snakes said. "And I'll ask her if I can call off the attempts to get hold of your son." He looked to Vandergelt, who noticeably relaxed in relief.

"I'd be most grateful," said Vandergelt. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Go to the hotel and get a couple of rooms," Snakes directed. "I'll let you know when I hear back."

Bret smiled, touching the brim of his hat. "We'll do that, Mr. Tolliver. Right away. You've been more than fair with us." He gathered up the documents and backed up towards the door.

"Yeah," Snakes grunted. "I have."

He waited until they'd left before growling to himself, "So much for Virginia City. This really throws a whole new fly in the ointment. I wonder if Beau knows." He scratched out the promised telegram and stood to find someone to send it.

xxxx

Beau groaned as he slumped into the bed of the connecting room at the hotel. "What a day. What a long and terrible day."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, was it?" said Jack from the doorway as he loosened his ascot.

Beau looked over at him. "Cousin Bret is here."

"Yes, I know." Jack half-turned. "I hated to leave him in the dark about things, but I couldn't see my way clear to letting him know the truth, at least out in the open."

"Same here." Beau sat up. "But what on Earth was he doing here anyway?!"

"Well, he was with my father, so my guess is that Father contacted him for help since he's my friend," Jack said.

"That makes sense." Beau sighed. "It never even occurred to me that might happen."

"If it makes you feel any better, it never occurred to me either," Jack replied.

Beau suddenly stiffened. "Something else just occurred to me. Your Father will be coming to the hotel. He's probably going to want this connecting room. He'll be told at the front desk it's vacant."

Jack frowned. "That _is_ a problem. You really can't go anywhere else in the hotel. I suppose if he comes up to claim this room, we'll have to tell him the truth."

"Naturally we would," said Beau. "And Cousin Bret too."

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive," Lydia remarked as she came over to the doorway. "I knew this plan was madness!"

"Well, it kept your husband safe and free today," Beau said. "And if the rest of our plan works, it will keep him that way indefinitely."

"And that's the most important thing, isn't it?" Jack rejoined.

"Of course it is." Lydia hugged Jack from behind. "I'm just worried that it's all going to backfire on you both!"

"Frankly, so are we," said Beau.

"Speak for yourself," said Jack. "Nothing's happened that can't be fixed."

"Sure, for now," Beau retorted. "What about later?"

"We'll worry about _later_ when it happens," Jack said.

Usually Beau was inclined to agree. Right now, he wondered if that was the best policy.

xxxx

Lucrece Posey sat at her desk in her special headquarters, crafting a diagram of what her criminal empire would be like once she added the Vandergelt businesses to the list. Her eyes glimmered with anticipation and greed. She knew how businesses worked and she knew the numbers these companies could potentially bring. If Snakes could handle that one oh so simple task, she should have everything in the palm of her hand within the week.

A shadow fell across the doorway and she looked up. "What is it, Pinto?"

Little Pinto, who stood six feet tall and always carried his trusty roping lariat, strolled into the room with a piece of paper. "Telegram, Lucrece." He was the only one allowed to call her by her first name.

Lucrece reached for it. "From Snakes?"

"Yeah. It's bad news." Pinto frowned, watching her read it. He knew she would be disappointed and upset.

Her eyes scanned the telegram. She almost wanted to burn through it with sheer force of will alone. "So. Someone else owns these businesses." She set the paper down on her desk.

"Maybe. Seems kind of funny, this turning up right now." Pinto turned the lasso in his hands. "If you want, Lucrece, I'll run up there and see what's going on. Snakes never can handle anything himself."

"Oh, stop it. He's been quite successful collecting towns along the Mississippi River." Lucrece stood. "And this could be legitimate. They would have to investigate the current status of their businesses before turning anything over to me. They could have easily enough discovered this then, just as Snakes says." She walked around the desk. "You'll go to Bent Spoon, Pinto, but I'm coming with you."

Pinto's eyes flickered with pleasure. Even so, he said, "Are you sure, Lucrece? It shouldn't be too hard to handle this."

"I want to be there personally. That isn't going to be a problem for you, is it?" She looked up at him.

"Oh no." Pinto smiled. "Not a problem at all."

"Good," said Lucrece as she brushed past him. "We're leaving on the next stage. Pack whatever you're planning to bring."

"Will do," said Pinto, strolling off in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As predicted, it wasn't long before John Vandergelt the Second came bustling up the stairs of the hotel, Bret Maverick still in tow. He had indeed selected the connecting room for himself, but before going in, he wanted to see Jack first. Hoping Bret could talk some sense into him, Vandergelt insisted on him coming as well.

"Jack?" he boomed, knocking on the door. "Jack, open this door right now!"

Casting a last concerned look at Beau, Jack pulled the connecting door shut and went over to the main door of his and Lydia's room. "Coming, Father." He threw it open. "Come in, both of you!" If he was surprised Bret was still there, he did not show it.

Vandergelt stormed in, Bret trailing behind him. "Son, what was the meaning of that display in town today?!" he demanded. "You put yourself in ridiculously unnecessary danger!"

Bret looked embarrassed. "Are you sure I should stick around? I could wait outside."

"Stay right here!" Vandergelt boomed. "And shut the door!"

Bret flinched, but quickly did as he was told.

"Yes, do stay, Bret," Jack said. "What's all this Mr. Bret lawyer nonsense?"

"I brought him along to help with this mad plan of yours," Vandergelt snapped. "And then what do we find but you strolling around town as though you don't have a care in the world!"

Lydia suddenly appeared. "Oh hello, Father," she smiled. To Bret she frowned. "Hello," she said coolly. Never knowing the full story behind her courtship with Jack, as per Bret's wishes, she still thought Bret had just let Jack enter the duel with Lucius. Not wanting to take any chances on Lydia deciding she wanted him after all, Bret had been just fine with letting her think it.

Nevertheless, he smiled politely and touched the brim of his hat. "Hello, Lydia."

"Hello," Vandergelt said, clearly distracted. "Lydia, why did you let that husband of yours go wandering off in town today?!"

"I didn't _let_ him go, Father," Lydia replied. "Van does what he pleases. You know that."

"That's true," Bret interjected.

"Bah!" Vandergelt opened the door to the connecting room to set his luggage inside. Beau, still laying on the bed, escaped his notice . . . for a moment. The instant Vandergelt had the door shut, the image dawned on him. Baffled, he opened the door again. Seeing the bed empty, he pulled the door shut with a bang. "Now see what your philandering has done! You have me so upset I'm seeing things!"

"Seeing things, Father?" Jack came over to stand beside him. "Like what?"

"Like you on the bed in there, even though you're right here!" Vandergelt screamed.

"You really are upset," Lydia soothed. "Come over here and I'll fix you a drink."

"I don't want a drink; I want an explanation!" Vandergelt retorted. "Jack, this time your recklessness has gone too far!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Father," said Jack. "And if you'll just calm down, I'll give you the explanation you want."

"I don't want some made-up fable; I want the truth!" Vandergelt bawled.

The connecting door opened. Seeing it out of the corner of his eye, Bret half-turned to look, still occupied with the display Mr. Vandergelt Senior was putting on. "Van, if I have to stay here, you're staying too . . ." But he trailed off, suddenly realizing what he had just said and how Jack was still standing near his father, trying to calm him down. He whipped around, staring at the Jack in the doorway with new eyes.

Beau gave a very awkward smile and a wave. "Hello, Cousin Bret."

"Beau?!" Bret exclaimed in utter disbelief.

Vandergelt spun around. "WHO?!"

"My cousin Beau," Bret said, still reeling. "Beau, what the heck's going on here?!"

"Your cousin Beau looks like my son Jack?!" Vandergelt cried before Beau could respond.

"Yeah, he does," Bret said in a very occupied tone of voice. "I didn't even consider that maybe he was involved when we ran into two Vans." He frowned at Beau. "Which one were you?"

"The first one," Beau told him.

"Well, that explains the way you acted like a cornered animal," Bret said.

"I'm sorry, Cousin Bret," Beau sighed. "I was afraid you'd realize who I am and disrupt the entire operation."

"What operation?" Bret retorted. "You and Van wandering around town all day so there'd be two Vans?"

"Yes, actually," said Beau.

"You could have got my son killed!" Vandergelt raged.

"His plan worked very well, Father," Jack quickly interjected. "We confused Snakes' men so much that they didn't get either one of us. And now that you and Bret are here, I assume some real action is being taken regarding the crime syndicate."

"We did just as you suggested in your wire," Vandergelt said. "Mr. Tolliver said he'd contact his boss and let us know what she says."

"Excellent!" Jack exclaimed. "Then perhaps by later tonight it will all be over!"

"And in our favor," Beau hurriedly added.

"What could go wrong at this stage?" Jack shrugged.

"A whole lot," Bret declared. "I'm sure you remember your courtship with Lydia."

Jack winced. "Yes, well, things don't usually go _that_ wrong. And anyway, at least that all got straightened out in the best possible way."

"But only after you were hurt!" Lydia retorted. "That could happen again. And maybe it wouldn't be able to be fixed another time! You could be killed!"

"They don't want to kill me," Jack protested. "We found that out."

"You could be hit by a stray bullet!" Lydia insisted. "They shot at Mr. Maverick last night."

Bret looked to Beau with a start. "Are you hurt?"

"They never even touched me," Beau assured him.

"Uh huh. Yet," Bret finished. "And I want to keep it that way."

"Believe me, dear cousin, so do I," said Beau. "But there's nothing more we can do until we hear back from Snakes, so why don't we settle down and order dinner?"

Bret's eyes lit up. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

xxxx

Snakes was back at work in his home office when the door opened and one of his thugs came in with a piece of paper. "Here's a telegram from Miss Posey, Boss," he announced.

"Good," Snakes said as he took and opened it. He scanned the contents quickly, looking troubled.

 _Will arrive in Bent Spoon tonight or tomorrow. Stop all attempts to abduct_

 _Mr. Vandergelt's son until further notice._

 _Miss Posey_

He sighed, slumping back. "Miss Posey's coming here," he announced. "She'll want to stay here so she won't have to pay a boarding fee. Fix up a guest-room. And . . ." He paused. "You better fix two of them. She probably won't be alone."

"Right." The thug turned to leave. "Anything else, Boss?"

"Don't try to get Vandergelt's son," Snakes warned. "That's on hold now."

"Okay, Boss." The thug headed out of the room.

Snakes tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. Now he would have to find a way to get to the hotel and tell Beau that things were going pretty much according to plan. Hopefully Mr. Vandergelt Senior and Bret Maverick would be able to face off against Posey without trouble. They just might be in over their heads, especially Bret. And even in as much as Bret wasn't one of Snakes' favorite people, he didn't want to expose him to that vicious end. Especially since he was someone Beau cared about.

xxxx

The group was just finishing with dinner when a knock came at the door. Surprised, and a bit wary, Jack got up and went over to it. "Who is it?" he called.

". . . Someone to see Beau Maverick," was the hesitant and somewhat muffled reply.

Beau got up from the table. "Go ahead and let him in," he encouraged.

Jack nodded and unlocked the door. But as Snakes stepped inside, John Vandergelt the Second sprang from the table in disbelief. " _Now_ what's going on here?! Mr. Tolliver, how do you even know about Beau Maverick being here?!"

"Hey, be quiet," Snakes exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. "Don't tell it to the entire hotel!"

"It's alright, Mr. Vandergelt," Beau soothed. "There was one other thing your son and I were holding back. We had hoped not to reveal it, but it looks like it's become necessary." He glanced to Snakes, who stiffened in fear.

"If anything gets back to my boss, I'm dead," Snakes moaned. "Look, I just came to tell you that she's coming out and she said to put a hold on going after your look-alike. I didn't know there was a convention going on in here."

Bret looked Snakes up and down, glanced to Beau, and looked back to Snakes again. "Why, Snakes, you old devil. You knew all along what was going on here, didn't you?"

Snakes looked away. "No, I didn't. Not until Beau showed up at my house last night."

"Would someone _please_ explain what is going on here?!" Vandergelt screamed. "Mr. Maverick, why are you cavorting with this criminal?!"

"Because he's helped my family and me in the past," Beau said. "When I realized what was going on here, I appealed to him again. He's my friend."

"Friend?!" Vandergelt cried in indignation. "Someone like this doesn't know how to be a friend! He'll stab you in the back the first chance he gets!"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Vandergelt, but you don't know me," Snakes retorted, his voice suddenly cold and dark. "You don't know what I'd do."

"I know your type!" Vandergelt shot back.

"But did you know that it was Snakes' idea in the first place to have someone say that you don't own the companies in question?" Beau spoke up.

That stunned Vandergelt into silence. For a moment he stood there, his mouth working but no sound emerging.

Bret might have been amused, had he not looked similarly stymied. He, however, recovered much quicker. "Oh, so Snakes is on our side again for this little venture?"

"Yes," Beau said firmly.

"I'm so glad," Lydia smiled.

Vandergelt finally shook himself out of his daze. "Well, so am I, if it will really work," he exclaimed.

"So far it has, Father," said Jack, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"And just what will we do if this Miss Posey can't be convinced when she gets out here?!" Vandergelt demanded. "Now I don't know how good our presentation is, since it hasn't fooled anyone yet!"

Snakes rubbed the back of his neck. "Miss Posey is a hard sell," he admitted. "She didn't get to where she is by falling for every trick that comes along."

"So we're certainly not out of the woods!" Vandergelt frowned.

"No, but there's not much we can do except hope for the best," Bret said. "And maybe practice the presentation a couple of times." His eyes flickered in his nervousness.

"You can practice it on me, if you'd like," Jack offered.

"And me," Beau chimed in. "I'm curious to know what you said."

"Well," Bret said with a grateful shrug, "let's just hope that practice makes perfect."

xxxx

It was the morning stage that brought Lucrece Posey and Little Pinto to Bent Spoon.

Pinto exited first, pushing back his hat as he gazed up at the general store and the other nearby buildings. "Just like hundreds of other towns all over America," he remarked. Then he turned back to the stage, holding out a hand for his boss to take on her way down.

Lucrece accepted. Even though she was a crime boss, she still liked to be treated as a lady. "The difference is that this town holds a potential gold mine for us," she said. "Let's find Snakes' house. He'll put us up."

Pinto grabbed their luggage as it was handed down by the driver. "You figure we'll be here overnight?"

"Who knows. This was supposed to be so simple." Lucrece was clearly annoyed.

"Still seems odd to me," Pinto drawled. "Maybe the old guy's making it up."

"Maybe he is. But he'll regret it if he is." Lucrece walked with purpose, taking in the town as she went. "And Snakes really should have been here to meet the stage. He wouldn't know if we'd be on it."

"He's lazy," Pinto proclaimed. "He's probably still in bed."

Lucrece scowled. "For as long as we've been working this syndicate, no one on the board can seem to get along. I don't like it. It's never going to succeed if there's always so much tension!"

Pinto shrugged. "Okay, so I don't like Snakes. I like Sergei and Cyril just fine. And I don't have anything against Gallito."

"But sometimes you're jealous of Brutus," Lucrece said flatly.

"Well . . ." Pinto stepped closer to her. "It's just that sometimes he seems to take up so much of your time and attention. I like to be number one."

Lucrece didn't look impressed. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that our arrangement is superficial only. There is no depth to it, at least not on my part."

"I know, I know." Pinto looked ahead. "Hey, there's Snakes now."

Indeed, Snakes was hurrying briskly down the road, holding onto his hat with one hand. When he saw Lucrece and Pinto coming towards him, he looked like he wasn't sure whether to relax or rush. "H-Hey, Miss Posey," he stammered. "Pinto. I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're late because you were tending to business, I hope," Lucrece said.

"Y-Yeah," Snakes said. "Of course."

"And not lounging around that fancy house of yours," Pinto added. "In any case, here. You can carry the bags." He thrust them at Snakes, who awkwardly accepted.

"There's not that much farther to go," he said.

"Good," said Lucrece. "In a town this size, I would hope not.

"Have there been any new developments regarding Mr. Vandergelt?"

"No, none," Snakes told her. "He's just holed up in the hotel with his son, waiting for you to get here."

"Then we won't waste time. After we take our things to your house, I'll freshen up and go right to the hotel." Lucrece's eyes narrowed. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

"What if everything checks out in his favor?" Snakes wondered.

"Then, I suppose, we'll have to find someone else whose businesses will work just as well," Lucrece answered.

"You don't have anybody in mind, do you?" Pinto asked, looking Snakes up and down.

"Me? Not really," Snakes retorted. "It's up to Miss Posey to pick who she wants."

"But I'm open to suggestions." Lucrece smiled in an unsettling way.

"That's great, but I don't have any. It took you a long time to decide on Vandergelt, didn't it?" Snakes eyed her uneasily. He never really liked when she smiled. It was never sincere.

"Quite a while. Which means I appreciate this delay even less." She smiled more. "If we can't have Mr. Vandergelt's businesses, you _will_ help us find suitable substitutes, won't you, Snakes?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, sure. Of course, Miss Posey." Snakes gripped the bags tighter, hoping that his heart wasn't really pounding as loudly as it seemed to him. It was always so difficult to know what she was thinking. Did she suspect he was mixed up in this? Would she suddenly turn and slash his cheek with her poison-laced fingernails? Would he die right here in the street?

He tried not to tremble as he walked. Just in case she didn't suspect, he couldn't show any fear, any indication that he knew more than he was letting on. That was easier said than done; he had never been a good liar.

But she just continued to smile. "Thank you, Snakes. I knew I could count on you."

 _I wish everybody would stop saying that,_ he thought to himself in dismay.

xxxx

It was hard to say if Lucrece or Pinto was fooled by Bret's presentation, at least during it. They were both completely attentive, examining the documents he showed them and hanging on every word of explanation. Snakes sat nearby, nervously wringing his hands and idly listening to the presentation for the second time, trying to determine whether it was indeed good enough to fool them.

At the conclusion, Lucrece looked from the documents to Bret and then to Vandergelt. "You thought you owned these businesses. Haven't you tried to find out who actually owns them and whether you can purchase them?" she asked.

"Yes, I have," Vandergelt replied. "They're dummy corporations. There's so much blasted red tape and so many false names that we haven't been able to dig through the mess to the truth yet."

"Well, I suppose that's believable." Lucrece set the documents aside. "It puts you in the clear, but leaves me quite inconvenienced."

Vandergelt looked like it was all he could do not to absolutely explode with indignant anger. " _Inconvenienced,_ Madam?" he sputtered. "You try to abduct my son and use him as a bargaining chip to obtain access to some of the businesses I thought I legitimately owned? And when that fails, you complain of _inconvenience?_ You didn't even have the right to do any of what you did!"

Bret looked nervous. "Let's not antagonize them, Mr. Vandergelt. After all, people in their line of work look at things differently than you and I do."

"That's exactly right, Mr. Bret," Lucrece said smoothly. "And for our trouble in coming out here, I believe you owe us something. Let's say . . . ten thousand dollars?"

"Ten thou- . . ." Vandergelt shot to his feet. "I most certainly will not pay any sort of blood money like that! Ten thousand dollars . . . why, that's outrageous!"

Lucrece's eyes flamed with the sparks of danger. Pinto started to unwind his lasso. Seeing that, both Bret and Snakes became all the more anxious.

"Ten thousand's really a reasonable price," Snakes said. "There's paying the men I hired, travel expenses for Miss Posey and Little Pinto, eating expenses . . ."

"That's right!" Bret nodded. "That's exactly right. For all that, she could have asked for a lot more. Now, why don't you just pay the nice lady, Mr. Vandergelt, and we can put this all behind us?"

"Put it behind us?!" Vandergelt shouted. "I could never put such a payment behind me! I have never been bullied by criminals before and I don't intend to start now!"

Lucrece rose from the couch. "Is that your final answer, Mr. Vandergelt?" Her tone was clipped and dangerous and filled with warning.

"It is," Vandergelt insisted. "Now I will thank all three of you to depart from my hotel room at once!"

"Of course." Lucrece gave him a very insincere smile. "Thank you for your time."

Pinto sneered at him as he followed.

Snakes, getting a definite sinking feeling, didn't meet either Vandergelt's or Bret's eyes as he plodded out after them.

Vandergelt snorted, adjusting his coat as he glowered at the closing door. "Imagine, expecting me to pay them after everything they just tried to do!" he fumed. "How dare they!"

"Oh, they dare," Bret gulped. "Mr. Vandergelt, don't you realize that they might take this as an excuse to go after Van again? They could decide to hold him for ten thousand dollars ransom!"

Vandergelt frowned. "I didn't stop to think about that."

"We went through this whole mess to protect Van," Bret said. "Now, what good would it do if we just turn around and let them abduct him now, for another reason?"

". . . I suppose you're right," Vandergelt said in resignation. "But I just can't stand to think of paying them off!"

"Well," Bret said slowly, "you could go ahead and pay them off knowing that there's always lots of hold-ups on stagecoaches."

Vandergelt shot Bret a Look. "You _do_ have a streak of the Devil in you, don't you," he remarked, a smile tugging at his stern lips.

"Oh, I didn't say _I'd_ have anything to do with it," Bret said vaguely. "Just that things like that happen. And then sometimes stolen money has an odd way of getting back to whomever it really belongs to. I'd say money paid out to crooks for crooked reasons is illegal and wouldn't hold up in court. It wouldn't really be theirs. Not to mention they'd probably be too prideful to come crawling back asking for more money. They'd never want to admit that a common robber or two got the better of them."

Vandergelt chuckled. "I see. You _are_ a good legal advisor, _Mr._ Bret. I believe I'll take you up on it." He stood, heading for the door. "I'll find them and pay them off right now."

"You do that," Bret called after him. To himself he added, "Me, I'll start planning a little highway robbery."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Beau was lying on the couch in Jack and Lydia's room, since the connecting room was now not free. He grimaced, running a hand into his hair. The horrible din Jack's father had put up with Lucrece Posey had destroyed any real hopes of resting for a while.

Not that Beau had really wanted to tune out what was happening; he wanted to know very much. But he wasn't sure of what was happening following the criminals' departure. The voices had lowered and they seemed to be in conference. When the door opened and Bret came in, Beau perked up. "Well, Cousin Bret. What was the final outcome?"

"Snakes' boss wants to be paid for her trouble in coming out here," Bret reported. "She's bound and determined that she's going to get something out of this scheme, no matter how unentitled to it she is."

"So what's going to happen?" Beau wondered. "I heard how singularly outraged Mr. Vandergelt was over the idea."

"I convinced him to pay off or they might try kidnapping Van," Bret said. "But since they really don't deserve any money after being so naughty, I also decided that they just wouldn't be able to keep whatever he pays them."

Beau sat up. "You're going to con them out of it?"

Bret shrugged. "Considering it's not really their money to begin with, yeah, I'm thinking of something like that. Do you disapprove?"

"No," said Beau. "I just question whether it will solve anything. And whether it could hurt Snakes. What if this woman becomes so angry at losing the money on top of everything else that she takes it out on him?"

Bret frowned. "I didn't think of that."

"You met her. Do you think she'd be capable of it?" Beau asked.

"I really couldn't say," Bret said helplessly. "She didn't seem like a very nice person, I'll tell you that. Snakes seemed pretty on edge the whole time he was in there with her."

Beau sighed. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, Bret. I agree that she shouldn't get Mr. Vandergelt's money, but I don't want her harming Snakes, either."

Bret placed his hands on his hips. "Too bad there isn't a stack of counterfelt money around here and we could give her that."

"With our luck, she'd be able to tell it was counterfeit," Beau pointed out.

Bret cringed. "Yeah, I guess that could happen too."

Beau swung his legs over the edge of the couch. "Let's just wait and see what Mr. Vandergelt has to say after paying her off," he encouraged. "Then we'll decide what to do."

"I guess that would probably be the best thing," Bret agreed. "By the way, where's Van and his wife?"

"Oh, they're talking in the bedroom, I think," Beau replied with a vague gesture in that direction. "I know they didn't go out."

"I'd hope not," Bret retorted.

xxxx

It was some time before Mr. Vandergelt Senior returned. When he did, he entered his room next-door and then came in through the connecting door, his face a thundercloud. Jack, who was readying himself for afternoon tea, looked up in surprise. "What happened, Father?"

"What happened?" Vandergelt echoed.

"Well, did you pay that horrible woman off?" Lydia asked.

" _Yes,_ I paid her off," Vandergelt growled. "But not ten thousand dollars. Oh no. I insulted her and didn't accept the lesser payment when I could. That blasted cowboy of hers had the gall to lasso me and not let me go until I agreed to double the amount!"

Bret looked sick. "Twenty thousand?"

Vandergelt gave a firm nod. "Twenty thousand."

Jack looked rather ill himself. "Oh, Father, I _am_ sorry." Standing up, he walked around the table and took the older man by the arm. "Sit down and have some nourishment."

"I doubt that I can eat," Vandergelt groaned, even as he let Jack sit him down at the table. "After today's experiences, I have very little appetite."

"Well, look on the bright side, Mr. Vandergelt," Beau spoke up. "Your son is safe and you didn't have to hand over any of your businesses to criminals. And they're leaving now, aren't they?"

"I'm not sure what they're going to do," Vandergelt said. "That woman acted like she might decide to stay on a while to look over the town."

"I bet Snakes doesn't like that," Bret mused.

"He didn't seem to like any of it," Vandergelt admitted. "He was very sullen and reluctant both times I saw him today." He looked to Bret. "Are you still planning to get back my money?"

"I want to," Bret said. "They don't have any right to it. But Cousin Beau here pointed out that losing the money as well as the businesses might make Miss Posey or Little Pinto attack Snakes out of anger, since this is one of his towns and maybe they'd hold him responsible somehow." He sighed. "I can't in good conscience leave him open to an attack, especially after he's tried to help us."

"So what are you going to do?" Vandergelt demanded.

"I don't rightly know yet," Bret sighed. "It would help if I knew what they're going to do. My original plan was to have the stage get robbed after it was out of town. Then Snakes would probably be safe, since it's unlikely they'd turn around and come back."

"That's likely true," Beau said. "But there's still problems with that idea. What if they shoot the robbers?"

"I planned on making it undesirable for them to do that," Bret said.

"Alright, but what if they don't take the money with them? What if they deposit it in the bank here? They might anticipate trouble, this being largely untamed country, after all." Beau folded his arms.

"I started thinking about that too," Bret agreed. "It's possible."

"Maybe we should just let them have the twenty thousand and be done with it," Jack worried. "We can make that amount back again easily enough."

"It's not a question of being able to quickly replenish the amount!" Vandergelt fumed. "It's a question of letting those blasted criminals get away with turning a profit at my expense!"

"So it's really about your pride, Father," Lydia pointed out. "It's good for the soul to let pride get wounded now and then."

"Oh, nevermind my pride!" Vandergelt grumped. "Give people like that an inch and they'll take a mile. They'll try this trick on other people since it worked on us."

"And that's exactly why we can't let it work now," Bret said. "We have to stop it and show them up. Then maybe they'll back off."

"I'm all for that, Cousin Bret, if there's a way to do it without putting Snakes in danger," Beau said.

"I think there is," Bret started to smile. "I'm sure there is."

"Well, do you have another plan, man?" Vandergelt exclaimed. "Let us in on it!"

"I've got a plan," Bret nodded, leaning forward on the table with folded arms. "A couple of them. Maybe the stage plan if they leave town with the money, but something else if they stay on here, which is looking more likely. We could probably also modify it to use in place of the robbery if they take the money with them on the stage."

"And just what is that?" Vandergelt objected.

"It shouldn't be too hard," Bret smiled. "I'd say all we have to do is . . ." He outlined the rest of his plans.

"Devious," Vandergelt said, shaking his head. "And devilish."

"Well, after all, you have to think like them to beat them," said Beau.

"Exactly," said Bret. "And that's what we're going to do. My only real question is whether Snakes'll forgive me either way, but we've never been bosom buddies anyway."

"Your plans are better than the alternatives," Beau said. "Snakes should be alright with them. I hope."

xxxx

Lucrece watched as Pinto counted up the bills on Snakes' desk for the third time. "It's still all there, I trust."

"All twenty thousand dollars," Pinto drawled. "We really took ol' Vandergelt for a bundle."

"He deserved it," Lucrece said in annoyance as she sat in Snakes' chair. "He had the foolishness and gall to believe he could walk away from us and not pay anything for our trouble."

"Yeah, we really made a big effort getting out here," Pinto said, perching on the edge of the desk. "It was pretty inconvenient."

"That isn't the point," Lucrece retorted. "The point is that we didn't get to where we are now by letting people walk all over us. We got to where we are by taking what we want, no matter who we have to hurt to get there." She looked to Snakes, who was sitting nervously to the side on a couch and leaning forward with his hands clasped. "Isn't that right, Snakes?" she said in a much-too-sweet tone.

"Huh?" Snakes started. "Oh. Yeah, that's how you got there, alright." He frowned at the rug. Lucrece and Pinto didn't care if they walked on the innocent, which was in complete contrast to how Snakes operated. His approach was in trying to keep the innocent safe from mobsters and other criminals who would hurt them without a second thought. He had to wonder again how he had ever ended up involved with this crew.

Pinto sneered at him. "You want some of this money we turned up, don't you? There's a share in it for you, for your trouble."

"Yeah?" Snakes looked wary. "How much?"

Lucrece regarded him calmly. "What do you think is fair?"

"I don't know," Snakes said. "This _is_ my town, and it was my people who were trying to get the young Vandergelt for you, and it's my house being used as a base of operations. . . ."

"Unfortunately, with three people this money can't be divided up exactly evenly," Lucrece said, shooting Pinto a warning look before he could protest giving Snakes anything. "And then there's the issue of whether it should be divided among all seven of us instead or whether the entire bundle should be placed in the syndicate's funds."

Pinto shrugged. "It's just us three who've been involved in this caper. I say divide it up among us or else put everything into the funds. I don't see why the others should specifically get shares when they weren't involved."

"No, but it wouldn't look exactly professional if we lined our own pockets instead of the syndicate's," Lucrece pointed out.

"We wouldn't exactly be doing that," Snakes said. "There's expenses we need to take care of, and whatever's left over could still fund syndicate operations. After all, the towns I control are ultimately part of the syndicate now."

"That's true," Lucrece nodded. "And it would only be with that thought in mind that I would think of dividing it up among the three of us.

"Let's say six thousand five hundred each. Then we have five hundred extra left over. We can put it in the fund."

Snakes blinked. "Thanks," he said slowly. He _did_ have to appreciate Lucrece's desire to be fair to all the board members. Pinto didn't always share that viewpoint.

Indeed, Pinto leered. "You're lucky Lucrece is so good to you, Snakes. Really, you didn't do that much to help things along."

Snakes' eyes flashed. "I did more than you," he said, getting to his feet. "All you did was come out with Miss Posey and stand around looking scary."

Pinto took a step forward, his lip curling in his anger.

"Alright, alright," Lucrece interrupted. "None of that. We'll divide the money up and take our shares away from here. It would probably be wisest to deposit them in the bank."

Pinto cast a last glare at Snakes as he turned away. "This is the wild West," he proclaimed. "Seems like there's always a bank getting held up in these one-horse towns."

"Things have been pretty good here," Snakes defended. "I've kept the town well-patrolled."

Lucrece nodded. "You've done well, Snakes. We're not disputing that. It's just that we don't tend to trust banks in general."

"And you think it'd be safer carting that much money around with you?" Snakes retorted. "Even if you put it in the strongbox on the stage's roof, it's no guarantee it'll get back safely to Justice with you."

"You make a good point," Lucrece said. "Naturally the strongbox is the first place highwaymen would look. They would be much less likely to locate the money if we kept it on our persons."

"You're crazy to take it with you at all," Snakes insisted. "A bank would be much safer. Or even keep it here in my safe. When you get back to Justice, I'll wire it to you."

Lucrece paused. "That is a thought," she mused.

"Of course, with all of that twenty thousand snuggled up cozy in your safe, what guarantee would we have that you wouldn't decide to claim it all for yourself?" Pinto said.

"Pinto," Lucrece scolded. "Snakes can be trusted. And he makes a good point. We'll leave it here with him."

Pinto stared at her. "Well, you're the boss."

"And don't forget that," Lucrece said coolly.

xxxx

Bret frowned as he and Beau stood outside the bank, waiting for Lucrece or Pinto to suddenly appear. "I thought sure they'd be coming out," he said.

"Yes, and we were all set to yell something about bandits on their way here," Beau frowned. "But that might not cause them to do what we want, now that I think of it. It might cause them to stay here and plan to shoot it out."

Bret cringed. "You could be right."

They waited for several more minutes. When Snakes appeared and not the others, Beau hurried over to him. "What's going on?" he asked. "Aren't your guests leaving?"

"Probably," Snakes shot back. "But the money is staying right here."

"In the bank," Bret stated rather than queried.

"No, actually," Snakes retorted. "It's staying with me until they get back to their headquarters." He glowered at Bret. "So if you so much as try to steal it back for Vandergelt, which sounds like something you'd do, you're gonna put me in a real bad spot."

Beau stiffened. "Well, we can't do that."

Bret looked sick. "He's right that we were planning to. Come on, Beau. We have a bigger obligation to the Vandergelts than we do to Snakes. He made his own choices in life."

"And so did Mr. Vandergelt," Beau shot back. "He chose to pay that woman off. I'm the first to agree that Snakes has made some pretty stupid life choices." He frowned at the crime boss. "But that doesn't mean I think we should just get him into a situation where he'll be harmed. Especially when he's tried hard to help us both now and in the past."

Snakes folded his arms. "That's right. What do you say, Mr. Maverick?" He looked at Bret with narrowed eyes.

Bret sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Beau's right," he conceded. "It wouldn't be right to do that to you. But I need to get Mr. Vandergelt's money back to him. He's counting on me the same way your boss is counting on you."

Now it was Snakes' turn to look sick. "I don't see that there's any way to get his money back to him unless I pay you out of my own pocket."

"Someone might notice the shortage," Beau objected. "Then you'd still get in trouble."

"I have money stashes Posey doesn't know about," Snakes said. "I just hate to think of dipping into any of them to pay back some big businessman. I owe him nothing."

"Well, I don't know about that, Snakes," Bret drawled. "I'd say _you_ should be paying _him_ as compensation for all the trouble he and Van have been put to."

"Maybe something, but twenty thousand dollars worth?" Snakes retorted.

"That's the amount your boss stole from him," Bret said. "I'd say it should really be paid back with interest."

"She's the one who did that, not me," Snakes growled. "So she should be the one to pay it back."

"How about she pay the twenty thousand and you pay the interest?" Beau suggested.

"You still haven't figured out how to get her to pay it at all," Snakes pointed out.

"Well, we did, but now it's all gummed up," said Bret.

"Oh, I never would've convinced them to keep the money here if I'd known it was messing with your little heist plans," Snakes said sarcastically.

"Alright, nevermind," Beau interrupted. "Arguing will get us nowhere."

Bret silently consented. "Isn't there any way you can get them to take the money with them after all?" he pleaded.

"I don't see how," Snakes frowned. "I convinced them it would be safer to leave it here. Unless Pinto gets Posey to change her mind, it's staying."

"How hard do you think it would be for him to get her to change her mind?" Beau wondered.

"Probably pretty hard," Snakes said. "She knows he doesn't like me and will always be saying things against me, so she won't pay a great deal of attention to it." He paused. "But he doesn't like the idea of leaving it here with me, that's for sure."

"Then let's see how persuasive he can be," Bret said. "Maybe he can take care of all the work for us."

"I'll go back home and see what's happening," Snakes said. "But don't expect too much."

"Snakes, if we can't get that money one way or another, I'm going to see to it that you pay the money back out of one of those private stashes of yours, whether you think that's fair or not." Bret spoke calmly but firmly; he meant every word.

Snakes glared. "And people wonder why I don't like you." He looked to Beau, his expression softening considerably. "I'll see you later, Beau."

Beau nodded. "Good luck, Snakes."

Bret sighed as they watched Snakes go. "This sure is a mixed-up situation. If we weren't worried about Snakes, we could go ahead and move."

Beau looked to him with a worried start. "You won't, will you, Cousin Bret?"

"No, I won't," Bret said wearily. "Even if it wasn't for you and Snakes being friends, I wouldn't want to get him in big trouble with his boss."

"I'm glad," said Beau. "But you're right, it does complicate things much more."

"We'll wait and see what happens," Bret said. "I sort of maybe convinced Snakes we were going with the robbery plan, but I'm thinking in reality we'll try the other one."

"That's more the Maverick way," Beau admitted, "but I don't know if they'd fall for it." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why not tell Snakes the real plan, though?"

"Even though he's helped us, he's still ultimately part of the syndicate," Bret said. "I just don't know that I trust him that much."

"I suppose I can't blame you for that," Beau conceded. "Alright, tell me more of how this plan is supposed to work."

"Well, I'd figured at first that the easiest way to separate these kinds of people from their money would be a straight-up robbery," Bret said. "But what if instead we could convince them that there's an old business in need of tender loving care they could buy if they put twenty thousand down? By the time they'd realize there's no business, we'd be long gone. Not that they'd trace it to us anyway. They bought the other con, and another one would be safer than a robbery. So many things can go wrong with those."

"Let's see if making it work is even feasible," Beau said. "And exactly who would we get to sell them this bill of goods?"

"I was thinking of Brother Bart, if he's nearby," Bret replied.

"That would work, I suppose," Beau agreed. "Provided they've never met him."

"Let's hope they haven't. Meanwhile, you'll have to keep up playing the part of Van. We can't let on any part of that trick now."

"I know." Beau glanced to some approaching townspeople and smiled at them. "Good afternoon."

Bret touched the brim of his hat in greeting as well. He hoped, when he saw their confused looks, that he and Beau didn't look like they were up to something.

xxxx

Snakes wasn't surprised when he returned to the house and heard the sounds of a disagreement through the open window almost immediately.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Pinto! What exactly do you think will happen if we leave the money here? Snakes is smart enough to know that if he loses it while it's in his care, he will be dealt with severely in spite of being on the board!"

Snakes cringed.

"I just don't trust him, Lucrece," Pinto answered. "He might decide that twenty thousand all to himself is worth the risk."

"No, I wouldn't," Snakes muttered.

" _I_ trust him, Pinto," Lucrece retorted. "At least on this matter."

An uneasy silence followed. "You mean you _don't_ trust him on other matters?" Pinto asked.

"Let's say I have some questions," Lucrece said. "I don't think he's entirely happy being part of the syndicate. He's a terrible liar; he doesn't hide his feelings well."

"Then why keep the money here?!" Pinto exclaimed. Then the answer dawned and he went on, "Or are you testing him?"

"You could say that," Lucrece smiled.

Snakes nearly moaned out loud. He was certainly relieved that he didn't have any intentions of taking their money. And, he thought as he covered his eyes with a shaking hand, he hoped he could really trust Bret Maverick not to do otherwise.

His hand fell away again. There was no way the money would leave his house under these circumstances, but even if it did and Bret enacted his highway robbery plan, maybe Lucrece and Pinto would think that any robbers were men hired by Snakes to get the money back for him.

Instead of going inside, he turned and hurried back towards town. He needed to tell the Mavericks what he had just learned.

Maybe, as much as he hated the thought, paying Vandergelt back out of his own pocket wouldn't be so painful after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Bret and Beau listened to Snakes' information in concern. This time, instead of talking out on the street, they had gone around the side of the general store and from there, into the alley. Beau in particular frowned and looked to Bret, trying to silently communicate whether they should tell Snakes the real plan or not. Bret, although receiving the message, chose not to respond as of yet.

"So that's the situation as it stands," Snakes said. "I'm gonna be watched closely about the money no matter how you cut it."

"But supposing you're not the one who loses it and your boss does instead," Beau said, not feeling he could reveal Bret's plan yet also not feeling like he could completely keep quiet when Snakes was so distressed.

"Then bully for her," Snakes shot back. "What guarantee do I have that she won't blame me anyway? Maybe she'd think that I was mixed up in the con right along with you because I was trying to get the whole roll."

"She shouldn't think that," Bret said, somewhat helplessly.

"You don't know her like I do," Snakes snapped. "She might."

"I don't know, Cousin Bret," Beau worried. "If that's really a possibility, how can we really go ahead with any plan?"

"How can we just let them think they've won?" Bret countered. "You know that's never been our way, Beau. We bring down criminals wherever we find them."

"And you're not criminals too?" Snakes suddenly spat.

Bret stiffened, finding it awkward and embarrassing to be put on the spot. "Well . . . vigilantes, maybe."

"Oh yeah, you're so righteous and honorable," Snakes mocked.

"Our goal _is_ to protect the innocent," Beau defended. "You know that, Snakes. It was one of the main things you were throwing at me when we first met."

"Yeah, I know." Snakes was aggravated. "But _you_ should know that your family really is high and mighty in some ways. Sure, you bring down crooks who are hurting the innocent, but you do it mainly by running elaborate cons on them. And that's illegal just as much as what I do is illegal, no matter what you say."

"I guess you can look at it that way," Bret said, folding his arms. "But all we take is the money. It seems like you usually take a lot more. Probably even their lives sometimes. I can't believe your explosions don't kill."

"And you think just taking the money won't leave some lasting effects sometimes?" Snakes ranted. "You take that and sometimes somebody gets punished by having their life removed from them! That's the situation I'm looking at right now! Posey's watching me. She knows I'm not happy in her syndicate. If something the least bit out of line happens, I could get blamed for it. And you know something? I'm not taking the blame for anything you do! I don't care if you feel like you can't let them win; I'm not letting me _lose!_ "

"So what are you going to do?" Bret countered. "Tell them all about us? Let Beau take the fall right along with me?"

Snakes stood there, seething, looking back and forth between the Maverick cousins. "Mr. Maverick," he said at last, speaking very low and very dark, "if Beau takes the fall right along with you, it'll be because you dragged him into it. Or because Beau decided to go along with you. That would be Beau's choice. But it might be on your conscience anyway. It wouldn't be on mine." With that he stormed past, pulling his hat low over his eyes.

Bret stared after him. "So it sounds like even if Snakes considers you a friend, he still wants to look out for himself above everything else," he commented. "He'd drop you like a hot rock if you got in the way of his Earthly salvation."

"To be honest, under these circumstances who could blame him?" Beau frowned. "We're pushing him from one side while Miss Posey and Pinto are pushing him from the other. If you corner a man, especially someone like Snakes, he'll eventually snap back like a frightened, desperate animal."

Now Bret frowned, definitely concerned. "You act like you're siding with him."

"I'm looking at it from his side, or trying to," Beau said. "The fact is, Bret, this situation just isn't like most of our cases. We've never really worried about anyone on the other side before. We just did whatever we needed to in order to put the criminals out of commission and let the chips fall where they may. That isn't going to work this time. Snakes says he won't let himself lose. I don't intend to let him lose, either."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Bret asked. "Just let them get away with this?"

"I think I should talk to Snakes alone," Beau said. "He doesn't like you. I'm afraid that as long as you're there, Snakes will remain as upset as he currently is and we won't get anywhere. Maybe if I speak with him alone, he'll calm down and we can have a peaceful conversation."

"And come up with what?" Bret retorted. "Snakes sure didn't seem like he was in any mood to pay up out of his own pocket."

"Maybe not. And maybe we shouldn't expect that of him. But if he would agree to do that, I think we should take the compromise and leave it at that." Beau looked at Bret with firm, unyielding eyes. "Mr. Vandergelt would have his money back. Since you promised to see that he got it, it seems like that should be our main goal here. Maybe we would just have to let Miss Posey and Pinto walk for now."

Bret blew out his breath in frustration. "I don't like it," he said. "It goes completely against the Maverick way to let criminals get away with anything like that. But . . ." His shoulders slumped. "You're right that the main thing should be getting Vandergelt's money back to him, no matter how we do it. Heck, maybe we could even try gambling it back if we could get a game going in town."

"That's the spirit," Beau nodded. "Why don't you see what you can do about that while I go find Snakes?"

"Maybe I will," Bret said, perking up slightly. He had to admit that the thought of winning a big pot sounded fun, even if he would have to turn it over to Vandergelt. One way or another, Bret always tried to pay off his debts.

xxxx

Beau found Snakes storming down the street and heading for the nearest saloon. He hurried to catch up, holding onto his hat so it wouldn't blow away in the breeze. "Snakes, wait!"

Snakes turned, ready to snap something else in anger and fear. But when he saw that it was solely Beau and not also Bret coming after him, he relaxed at least somewhat. "Shouldn't you be working with your cousin on his ideas about the money?" he asked. "It's so all-important to you."

Beau sighed. "It's really not about the money," he tried to explain. "It's the fact that your boss stole it from Mr. Vandergelt. If it was food or a business, it would be the same principle."

"Whatever." Snakes shrugged. "Showing up criminals seems to be what your family likes to do best, aside from winning at poker. But in the eyes of the law, all of you really would be considered criminals too. Your motivation wouldn't change that."

"I know." Beau watched him closely. "You think we're all hypocrites, don't you?"

"In some ways, yeah." Snakes folded his arms. "You, though, I don't know what to make of. You're different than the rest of your family, but you're into the catching crooks part of it too. And I guess you really believe in it; you're not the type to do something because it's the 'in' thing to do."

"That's true," Beau nodded. "But if you think we're hypocrites, what do you think of yourself?"

Snakes sneered. "Hey, it was your cousin who had the idea that maybe I do a lot of good under the guise of being a crook. I never confirmed it."

Beau smiled a bit. "No, but you really didn't have to. It was already obvious."

Snakes rolled his eyes. "I know _I'm_ a criminal. I cheat, con, steal, and smuggle. But the one thing I don't do is deliberately make life Hell for the innocent. I take down anyone who does, same as you do. That doesn't make me squeaky clean or erase any of the bad I've done. I'm not trying to. I'm just trying to survive, and to make life easier for anyone else who's getting beat-down like I was before I wised up."

Beau found himself saddened, as he had been before when talking to Snakes. "You really believe that turning to a criminal way of life was a better path for you?"

"Well, it sure beats getting kicked into the dirt and having people hate you so much they take a hot knife to your cheek," Snakes said bitterly. "No one would dare do that to me now."

Beau flinched. "That's how you were hurt?" he said, sickened. "There's all kinds of stories going around about it."

"Yeah, I know. People like to say that somebody called me out on cheating at poker and cut me up and I shot him in the belly." Snakes sneered again. "It's not true, but I let people think it. It keeps them on their toes about me. And it's better than them knowing the truth, that it happened because I tried to do someone a good turn and somebody else didn't like that. I was too weak to stop them from beating me with a rifle and cutting up my face."

Beau stared at him in sickened horror. "Oh Snakes. . . ."

"Now, don't go feeling sorry for me," Snakes growled. "I didn't tell you because I wanted pity. I told you because that was what made me realize once and for all how messed-up this world is."

Beau nodded. "I'm sorry anyway. No one should have to experience something like that."

"And that's what we're both trying to correct, in our own ways," Snakes said.

"I understand." Beau sighed. "Regarding the money, I don't know what we're going to do. I think I convinced Cousin Bret that the most important thing right now is getting Mr. Vandergelt's money back to him. He decided maybe he could gamble the money back."

"Well, taking responsibility. I like that a lot better than putting me on the spot." Snakes shoved his hands in his pockets. "Does that mean I won't have to worry that something you're doing is going to get me in bad with my boss?"

"I hope so," Beau said sincerely. "With you trapped in the middle, we really can't go about this the way we normally would."

"I'm glad you have that much consideration for me," Snakes remarked. "If it was just your cousin, I'm sure he wouldn't. He'd figure I'd just have to deal with whatever happened."

"I really don't think Cousin Bret would feel that way about it, after all the times we've encountered you and you've helped us in one way or another," Beau frowned.

"Heh." Snakes shrugged. "Maybe. Another thing I've learned through the years is that most people do whatever they want to do, no matter who gets hurt."

"Cousin Bret has been concerned about your safety from the moment he learned how deeply you're involved in this," Beau insisted. "He keeps changing his plans to try to better accommodate you."

"Well, I appreciate it," Snakes said, still looking wary, "but I wonder if he would have changed his latest plans if you hadn't been around."

Beau sighed. "I'm sure I can't convince you of that, but he would have."

Snakes was half-listening, tense as he saw Bret making his way to the saloon. But when Bret paused, Snakes stayed.

"I see Beau managed to calm you down, just like he said he would," Bret commented.

Snakes grunted. "He's good at that. Good luck winning money in there; that's the best way you've come up with to pay back old Vandergelt."

"I'm still expecting you to come up with the interest, at least," Bret retorted.

Snakes smirked. "Maybe, but you'll have to accept whatever amount I decide on."

Bret sighed. "I guess that's the chance I'll have to take. Well, I'll see you two later."

"Goodbye, Cousin Bret. And yes, good luck," Beau said in all sincerity. "I'll come in and watch you in a moment."

Snakes looked weary. "Let me know how it goes," he said to Beau as Bret disappeared inside the saloon. "I'll get some money for the interest out of one of my stashes and give it to you later today."

Beau nodded. "Thank you, Snakes. We appreciate it."

Snakes shrugged. "I figure it's the least I can do. But it's more for you than anyone else."

Beau had to smile a bit. "I know."

xxxx

As it turned out, Bret had an excellent piece of luck, winning enough for Vandergelt and some for himself as well. But, as what often happens when a Maverick plays poker, some of those he won the money from weren't that happy about it and intended to go about getting it back. As he left the saloon with Beau, who was still posing as Jack, the two sore losers followed them down the street and towards the hotel.

"Is it just my imagination or have we picked up two shadows?" Beau said uncomfortably after a moment.

"Oh, they're there, alright," Bret drawled. "Look, maybe you'd better go on ahead and get this up to Vandergelt. I'll stay here and deal with them."

Beau tensed. "But those odds aren't fair! They'll clobber you!"

Bret cringed. "Well, I'm hoping I can hold them off long enough for you to deliver the money and get back out to help me. We can't let them steal the money I just worked so hard to win."

"That's true," Beau slowly agreed.

Bret shoved the roll into Beau's hands. "So take it and go!"

Beau obeyed, running for the hotel and disappearing through the front doors. As they flapped behind him, he heard Bret say, "Now what are you fine gentlemen doing still hanging around here?"

Beau had to admit he was amused in spite of himself. But, he knew with a sinking heart, Bret was likely in very grave danger. He ran up the stairs two at a time, ignoring the stunned desk clerk, and burst into Jack and Lydia's room with the key they had given to him earlier that day. They and Mr. Vandergelt Senior all looked up from the table with a start.

"I've got the money," Beau gasped, "but Bret is in trouble. I have to get back down there."

Jack leaped up from the table. "What happened?" he demanded.

"It's a long story, but he won the money in a poker game." Beau shoved the roll at Jack's father before the man could so much as open his mouth. "As is usual for us, he was playing with some sore losers."

"What about that Posey woman and her cowboy?" Vandergelt asked, flipping through the wad to make sure it was all there.

"They still have your original money," Beau said with some impatience. "We had to change the plan. Now I have to get downstairs and help Bret!" He ran for the door, Jack hot on his heels.

"Nevermind the deception now," Jack called. "I'm going to help too."

"Van! You'll get hurt!" Lydia screamed, running after them.

"Good Heavens, what is this?!" Vandergelt cried, stuffing the money into his inside coat pocket before giving chase as well.

"Don't take the money out of the hotel!" Beau yelled over his shoulder. "They might get hold of it!"

Vandergelt stopped at the doorway. "So what am I supposed to do?!" he grumped. "Stay here?!"

"That would be safer," Jack called back. "Incidentally, Lydia, you should stay with him."

Lydia fumed. "Oh! You're going to run off and get yourself hurt and all I can do is stay behind?!"

"It's important to look after Father too," Jack said.

Lydia folded her arms and wasn't at all pleased, but she stepped back into the doorway.

The desk clerk looked up with a start at the sound of thundering down the stairs. But when two identical young men appeared and ran for the door without a second thought, the man's jaw nearly hit the counter.

Outside, Bret had been doing his best to hold his own against both adversaries. He was still one man against two, however, and they did not play fair. As Beau and Jack rushed outside, they were just in time to see one of the men strike Bret from behind. He crumpled to the ground.

"Bret!" Beau and Jack screamed in collective alarm.

Sneering, one of the men started to lift Bret from behind. The other assisted by gathering his legs.

Beau and Jack attacked at that point. Their enemies looked up with a collective start, baffled by two.

"What is this?" yelled the first, letting go of Bret in order to fight the new threat.

"How did you double yourself?" exclaimed the second, swinging a punch at Beau, who ducked.

Beau regarded them calmly. "The obvious answer is twin brothers," he said.

"But sometimes the obvious answer isn't always the right one!" Jack added.

Dazed, Bret tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind and look up at the fight. It was gathering a great deal of attention; the townspeople were all starting to cluster around the scene, each yelling for the ones they wanted to win. "Uh oh," he muttered when he saw Lucrece Posey and Little Pinto wandering into the crowd.

"What is this?" Lucrece said in annoyance. "The stage should be here any minute, but the driver might not stop if he sees all this commotion!"

"Yeah, and not just that," Pinto exclaimed. "No wonder Snakes' men had such a hard time catching that Vandergelt. Look at that!" He pointed to Beau and Jack.

Lucrece looked even more irritated. "They must have been playing all of Snakes' men for fools yesterday!"

"No kidding. But who is the other one?" Pinto wondered. "And why the heck are those people going after Vandergelt's lawyer anyway?"

"Maybe he made a bad deal in the saloon," Lucrece said with a dark smirk. "Or maybe they just don't like lawyers."

Snakes, who had come to see the commotion as well, watched nervously and didn't offer any thoughts.

"Hey!" Bret yelled as he woozily staggered to his feet and tried to dodge another flying punch. "Here comes the stage!"

Indeed, the evening stage was fast approaching, but the horses were spooked by the continuing fight. They reared up, throwing the driver from the box and to the ground before tearing past, their dark eyes wild with fear. The crowd screamed and began to fall back, hoping to not get caught up in the calamity.

Beau was the closest. Without a second thought he sprang forward, grabbing for the flailing lines while trying to avoid horses' hooves and carriage wheels. As he snatched them, he pulled himself up the side of the stage and then into the box, pulling hard on the lines to try to force the horses to stop.

"Beau!" Bret yelled, shoving one of his attackers back, "For crying out loud, why do you always have to be the brave one?!"

The stage was flying through the town, the horses still frantic with fear. As hard as Beau gripped the lines and tried to rein them in, they would not have it. By now he was thoroughly in a panic.

"Stop!" he screamed without thinking. "Whoa! WHOA!"

The horses would not cooperate. Then, just when Beau was starting to think that maybe taking his chances jumping off wasn't such a bad idea, a burst of thunder whizzed past his left temple.

 _I've been shot,_ he realized as he fell from the box to the ground and lay still.

It was Snakes who forgot himself and ran out in a panic, horrified by the scene. "Beau!" He knelt down by his friend, examining the blood trickling from the wound. It had only grazed him, but the shock of the blow had made him lose his balance. Had his neck been broken in the fall? His spine? His hands shaking, Snakes tried to reach under Beau to see. "Beau, come on!" he pleaded. "Speak to me!"

Bret finally made his way through the crowd and rushed over as well, heartsick to see Beau so lifeless and grateful that Bart wasn't here to witness it too. "Is he alive?!" he demanded.

Not even caring that his nemesis was in such close range, Snakes just nodded. "Yeah, he's breathing. I don't think anything's broken, but he's got a bump on his head in addition to this scratch."

"At least that's all," Bret muttered. "That creep must've shot him because he was in the saloon with me and it seemed like a good way to get revenge for losing his money. Come on, let's get him up." He proceeded to lift Beau's upper body, while Snakes gathered his legs. For once they were united, due to their shared concern for the one person they both cared about.

In the crowd, Lucrece Posey watched with a furrowed brow. "Take note of this," she instructed Little Pinto. "So even Snakes Tolliver has a heart. Let's hope he hasn't done anything foolish with it."

Pinto just narrowed his eyes. He would be very good at making Snakes regret any such foolishness. His concern over someone who looked just like Jack Vandergelt seemed very strange in light of this whole bizarre caper. He would have to be questioned very strongly about it.

xxxx

Beau was groggily surprised when he slowly opened his eyes and realized he was laying on something soft. His gaze darted upward and to the side.

"Oh come on," Bret drawled. "This is a bed in the doctor's office. There's no lid; you're not in a coffin yet. Although you could have been. What were you thinking, Cousin Beau?!"

"I . . ." Beau closed his eyes again. Everything was such a fog in his mind. "I don't know. . . ."

"Are you alright?!" came another voice.

That brought Beau's eyes open once more. "Snakes? You're here?"

"I wasn't going to talk to you until later," Snakes said gruffly. "But then those lowlifes deliberately shot you off the stage. I had to come out then."

Beau managed a weak smile. "I'm glad.

"So it's all over then?"

"Well, not quite," Bret said. "The stage was stopped and the sore losers are in custody. Miss Posey and her friend aren't. There's nothing they can be held to; they're denying everything. And Snakes here is still free."

"I'm probably going to get out of town," Snakes said. "Those 'sore losers' might talk about my illegal operations out of spite. They play poker with my henchmen a lot."

"Would they do that?" Bret wondered warily. "That could lead back to Miss Posey and I don't think she'd like it."

"They're not the sharpest tools in the shed," Snakes said. "They might not think about that." He paused. "But coming to think about it, Miss Posey would be just the type to arrange a little accident for them so they can't talk at all."

Bret cringed. "You sure have a wonderful boss." He stood. "I'd better get down to the jailhouse and warn the sheriff."

"You do that," Snakes grunted. "I'll stay here with Beau."

Worried, Beau reached out and gripped Bret's sleeve cuff. "Cousin Bret . . . be careful," he rasped.

Bret looked down, patting Beau's hand. "Oh, I will be," he promised. "And you be careful here with this character."

Snakes scowled.

Beau gave a weak chuckle. "We'll be fine."

Bret's expression softened. "I know." With that, he hurried out the door.

Beau slumped back into the bed. "How did the two of you ever come to a point of truce?"

"Only one thing could have done that," Snakes said. "You."

"I'm grateful," Beau said. "By the way, where's Jack?"

"His father's got him and Lydia under lock and key at their hotel room," Snakes said. "But he's been asking about you too. You really made a spectacle of yourself out there."

"I would have rather not, thank you very much." Beau rubbed his head.

"You really do some crazy things," Snakes said. "What would that uncle of yours think about today's exploits?"

"I don't think he'd like it very much," said Beau. "He'd probably threaten to send me away for another five years."

Snakes swore. "Your family is so mixed-up."

Beau sighed and gave a melancholy smile. "In some ways it is," he agreed. "But at least we all care about each other and are _trying_ to do good, even Uncle Beau."

Snakes grunted. "You'll always defend him up and down. I just hope he appreciates it."

"He would probably say he doesn't need me to defend him," Beau said. "But deep down I think he'd be pleased."

"Well, maybe. Anyway, here's the money your cousin wanted for interest." Snakes reached into his pocket and shoved a packet of bills into Beau's hand.

Beau took it, flipping through the stack in surprise. "Why, Snakes. . . . Admittedly, I don't know how much Cousin Bret had in mind, but I'm sure he wasn't expecting you to give this much."

"Eh." Snakes shrugged. "As crazy as this experience was, at least it gave us a chance to run across each other again. I'm kind of grateful for that. I don't know if it'll happen again; I need to lay low for a while."

Beau looked at him in concern. "You don't think your boss will be angry at you, do you?"

"I think she and Pinto will have some questions. But that's alright." Snakes gave a weary sigh. "We're going to have our quarterly meeting soon. And I might have some ideas of my own about that."

Beau reached out, grabbing his wrist. "What we talked about earlier?" he worried. "What you said you'd have to do to get out from under her control?"

"Maybe," Snakes said. "Or maybe not. I don't think Pinto would ever follow me; he's sweet on Posey, even though she doesn't love him." He gave Beau a firm and sincere look. "And I don't want to run the risk of endangering my life unless I don't have any other choice. I've always tried to find ways to stay alive because that was what I wanted more than anything else. Now I've got somebody who actually wants me to live. I never thought I'd experience that. So, whether we ever see each other again or not, thanks for that."

Beau slowly released his wrist but shook his hand. "Thank _you,_ Snakes, for everything you've done to help us this time and all the other times."

"Sure," said Snakes.

The door opened and Bret came back in. "Everything's okay," he reported. "The sheriff's going to keep an eye out for anything that might go wrong."

"That's good," said Beau.

"And I'll just be taking my leave now," Snakes said, heading for the door. "See you around."

"Goodbye, Snakes," Beau said, raising off the bed slightly.

"See you later," Bret drawled. As Snakes walked out and pulled the door closed after him, Bret turned back to Beau. "So, what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, things. Such as the interest money." Beau held it out.

Bret took it in surprise. "So he really came through about that," he mused. "I didn't know if he would."

"I believed in him, but even I'm surprised by the amount," Beau said. He paused. "I'm worried about him, though. I'm afraid he's either going to do something foolish or that woman will have him harmed. I don't trust her or the man she brought with her."

"I don't trust them either, but I don't know what we can do about it," Bret said. "Snakes will have to fight his own battles with them. If he'd ask for our help, I'd give it, but I don't think he will."

"I don't think so either," Beau sighed. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

"Hey." Bret laid a hand on Beau's shoulder. "He's managed pretty well so far."

"Yes, but luck always runs out some time." Beau looked to the dark night out the window. "I just hope his and ours won't for some time yet."

Bret didn't know what to say to that. So he just squeezed Beau's shoulder and looked to the window as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Snakes had thought he was prepared and on guard for anything else that might happen, but he was not expecting to be lassoed the moment he stepped inside his house. He yelped in surprised shock and alarm. "What the heck?! Pinto, what are you doing?"

Pinto sneered at him, pulling the lasso taut and painfully binding his arms to his sides. Lucrece stepped out from around Pinto and strolled over to Snakes, much too calm and cool. "We're going to have a little talk," she purred.

"Fine! But can't we have a normal talk?" Snakes retorted, struggling against the lasso.

"I think you'll find it will work better this way," Lucrece replied. She stood in front of Snakes, her hands on her hips. "Who is that man you were worried about tonight?"

"Beau," Snakes replied, wondering if his heart was pounding as loudly as it seemed to be. "He's a friend of mine. Rode into town and got shot at by my men."

"It's not hard to understand why." Lucrece stepped closer, reaching to run her fingers down Snakes' cheek. Knowing of the poison she periodically kept under her fingernails, he went stiff.

"It's not his fault he looks like Vandergelt!" Snakes protested.

"No, but it's more than a little odd that he would come here while Mr. Vandergelt is also here." Lucrece stroked Snakes' cheek. "Could that have been deliberate?"

"It was a coincidence, just a coincidence!" Snakes insisted, his gaze fixed towards that deadly hand. "He didn't even know Vandergelt!"

"Does he know him now?" Lucrece smiled in that disturbingly insincere way, pearly white teeth against red painted lips. Blood red lips, Snakes thought.

"Maybe," Snakes said. "It's only natural to want to meet someone who looks just like you, isn't it?"

"And maybe they concocted a scheme to confuse the issue and make it difficult for Vandergelt to be caught?"

"You'd have to ask them that." Snakes wanted to struggle against the lasso again, but he didn't dare. If Lucrece's hand should slip . . .

"There's no possibility that this Beau told you of the scheme? After all, surely he didn't want to be caught in Vandergelt's place. And surely you wouldn't have wanted to hurt your friend."

Snakes' eyes darted about. He knew his reputation as a very bad liar. He wasn't sure how much he could get away with without them knowing he wasn't telling the truth.

"He came to me and asked what was going on," he admitted. "And naturally he wanted to figure out a way to keep himself and Vandergelt safe. But I didn't have anything to do with that!"

Pinto pulled the lasso even tighter, something Snakes had not thought possible.

"Are you sure, Snakes?" Lucrece asked in an overly mild tone of voice.

"Of course I'm sure!" Snakes cried. "I don't wanna die!"

"Do you really think we'd kill you?" Lucrece sounded clearly patronizing now.

"I've seen what you do!" Snakes knew he wasn't keeping the fear out of his eyes or his voice. "You've killed people for much smaller infractions. I wouldn't have a chance!"

Lucrece studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, she stepped back and nodded to Pinto. "Let him go."

Pinto loosened the lasso. His knees shaking, Snakes nearly crashed to the floor as the pressure was released. He grabbed the edge of the wall to hold himself up. He wouldn't kneel before these two. Never!

Lucrece just looked at him. "I certainly hope it will never come to that. But you understand we have to be careful."

"Yeah. Of course." Snakes drew a deep breath.

Lucrece turned to head upstairs. "We'll be leaving in the morning. I'm sure you'll be hospitable enough to drive us to the stage."

"Sure," Snakes stammered. "Of course I will."

Pinto smirked at Snakes before he followed her.

Only when they had gone into their respective rooms did Snakes slump forward, still shaking. _I've got to get out of this mess,_ he thought to himself. _Somehow, someday, I've just got to!_

xxxx

Jack was relieved when Bret returned to the hotel with a somewhat dizzy but otherwise alright Beau. "I was just about ready to leave the hotel and come after you," he declared as they stepped into the room.

"A fine thing!" Lydia exclaimed. "You insist on me staying behind, but the rules don't apply to you when you want to go somewhere!"

"The danger is really over now, Lydia," Jack protested. He looked to the Mavericks. "Isn't it, Bret?"

"I think so," Bret said slowly, "but I don't trust that Miss Posey. She could turn around and pull some new trick."

"Unless she's suspicious about the dummy corporations owning the businesses she wanted, I really think she's finished with the Vandergelts," Beau said as he tried to casually sink into the couch and not show how badly he really needed to do so.

"Well, she'll probably check heavily into that story anyway," Vandergelt grumped. "And what will happen if and when she finds out the truth?"

"Part of the plan was to really make it look like that, for all intents and purposes, those dummy corporations _do_ own those businesses, at least for now," Bret reminded him. "And just in case we're right about someone working for you also working for Miss Posey, you need to be careful and try to quietly investigate all your employees."

"It would probably be someone fairly high in position," Jack said in concern.

Vandergelt shook his head, suddenly looking so tired. "This really isn't the end, is it?"

"I'm afraid it may very well just be the beginning," Bret replied. "We've got involved in a real hornets' nest."

"And so has Snakes," Beau said quietly.

Vandergelt frowned. "He made his own choice to get into it. We didn't _have_ a choice! It was forced on us."

"That's true and all, Mr. Vandergelt," Bret said as he stepped forward, "but Snakes always has a few surprises in store." He took a stack of bills out of his pocket. "I told Snakes you should be paid some interest money and this is what he came up with. It's more than I even had in mind."

Vandergelt accepted the money and flipped through it in stunned surprise. "Are you sure this isn't counterfeit?"

"It's real," Bret insisted. "And it's consistent with the way Snakes has acted all the times we've run into him. He's still a good person deep down; he'll just try his darnedest to keep anyone from finding out."

"He wasn't able to hold back today," Jack said. "As soon as he saw Beau was hurt, nothing was important except running out to him and trying to see how bad off he was."

Beau suddenly looked sick. "If Miss Posey saw that, she must have a lot of questions. Snakes said she and Pinto would probably interrogate him." He rubbed at the bandage over the superficial wound on his temple. "If they start to put the pieces together, it will be my fault for kicking it all off."

"Now, you know you couldn't have really just let those horses run wild all through the town without trying to do something to stop them," Bret said as he came to sit beside Beau on the couch. "It's just in your nature. You were the closest one to the stage and you were determined to see to it that you did something about it."

"You're right, of course, Cousin Bret," Beau conceded. "But I don't want to have to think that I brought trouble down on Snakes' head when we've been trying so hard to keep him out of this."

Bret looked down. "It's really too soon to tell," he said. "We should probably be leaving tomorrow, but we could discreetly stop in and check on Snakes first."

"Maybe," Beau said slowly. "I'd like to see him again before we leave, especially since there really isn't any guarantee that we'll see him after this, but I don't want to make things any worse than we may have already done."

"We'll talk about it in the morning," Bret resolutely decided. "If you're feeling up to it, how about we have a late dinner right now?"

Beau winced. "I don't know about dinner, Cousin Bret. Maybe something lighter for me."

"Just as long as you eat something," Bret replied. "I don't want to have to explain to Brother Bart that you got hurt and I didn't look after you properly."

That brought a bit of a smirk. "Oh no, we can't have that," Beau proclaimed.

xxxx

The night seemed to pass in relative peace. In the morning, Bret and Beau prepared to leave Bent Spoon, regardless of whether they saw Snakes again or not. Jack decided to accompany them outside and to the stage.

"You could stay on longer, you know," he said. "Father and I still haven't finished checking up on our businesses in the area. We could be here for several days more, possibly even a week."

"Well, you know, Van, I'd like to stay on. I really would," Bret said. "But as long as there's any presence of the syndicate here, even just Snakes' men, there's a high chance of them finding out the truth about all of us and our little schemes and plots, so I think it'd be better if Beau and I moved on."

Jack sighed. "When you put it that way, you're probably right. But hopefully there's a greater chance of us running into each other again than there seems to be about you and Snakes."

"I think so," Bret said, even as he caught sight of a shadow passing through Beau's eyes. He sighed sadly to himself, but suddenly perked up as they approached the general store. "Then again, maybe we're wrong." He nodded to where Snakes was stepping back from the departing morning stage.

"It looks like we're a little late," Beau said, blinking in surprise. But he smiled, unable to hide his happiness at seeing Snakes again.

Snakes turned to face him. "And that's just as well," he said. "I just put Posey and Pinto on that stage."

Beau cringed. "I hate to think of riding any distance with them."

"Especially since they would have tried every dirty trick possible to make you 'fess up about who you are and how well you know me," Snakes said.

"Well, they wouldn't have broke us down, but that still wouldn't have been a very pleasant experience to go through," Bret said uncomfortably.

"Darn-tootin' it wouldn't have been," Snakes snapped.

Picking up on the pain in Snakes' tone, Beau asked, "Did they try to do that to you, Snakes?"

"Yeah, they tried," Snakes growled. "I had to admit that you're my friend and you came to me to find out what was going on after you got shot at, but I didn't say anything else. I didn't even give your last name."

Beau shuddered. "They could have traced both Bret and me with that information," he knew. "Thank you, Snakes, for your silence."

"Telling would have only dragged me down with you," Snakes said. "Like I said, I don't want to let me lose."

"Of course not," said Beau with a fond smile. "But you still wouldn't have said even if you didn't have anything to lose, would you?"

Snakes looked away. "There wouldn't have been any point getting you in trouble."

"So," Jack spoke up, "I thought you were planning to leave town."

"I am, but not with Posey and Pinto," Snakes retorted. "And I still have to get that money to them when they get settled. I don't trust my men to do it. Maybe after I wire it along, I'll check out of town on the evening stage."

"What a coincidence," Bret mused. "Cousin Beau and I are going to have to ride out that way too."

"Bully for you," Snakes shot back.

"You won't mind riding with us, surely," Beau said.

"You, anyway," Snakes said. "But I'll cope with riding with your cousin too."

"Well, good," Bret said. "Meanwhile, since we'll be here all day, we might as well make the best of it."

"Yeah?" Snakes looked wary. "What did you have in mind? There's not a whole lot to do around here."

"Win some more money," said Beau. "What else?"

Snakes shook his head. "You Mavericks and your money. I should've expected that."

"Money is one of the building blocks of this world," Bret said.

"You could come watch us, Snakes," Beau suggested, not wanting to say Goodbye to him quite yet. "That surely wouldn't look so suspicious when you own the town."

"Yeah, maybe not," Snakes mused. "Okay; I'll watch you for a little bit."

"Wonderful," Beau smiled.

"Although you're going to look pretty funny marching into the saloon like this," Snakes said, making a sweeping gesture towards Beau and Jack.

"After yesterday, I shouldn't think it would be that unusual," Jack said. "By the way, I should thank you for helping my father and me."

Snakes looked embarrassed. "It was just because of Beau's connection in all this."

"Maybe so, but it's appreciated anyway," Jack insisted. "The interest money too."

"Sure," Snakes grunted. "But that was Mr. Maverick's idea."

Bret shrugged. "You didn't have to agree, though."

"Eh," said Snakes, and said nothing more.

Beau walked closer to Bret as they neared the saloon. "What on Earth did you find to talk about last night?" he wondered quietly. "While you were waiting for me to wake up, I mean."

"Oh, things," Bret replied. "You, mostly."

"I should have expected that," Beau mused.

xxxx

The day proceeded peacefully and without incident. This time, no one followed Bret or Beau out of the saloon wanting to re-acquire their money, and Beau had to wonder if Snakes' presence had anything to do with that. Either way, he appreciated the break and the chance to just relax and enjoy his time there for a few hours. There hadn't been nearly enough of such times since his arrival in Bent Spoon. Being able to just share several fun hours with his cousin, his friend, and his cousin's friend made for a very pleasant day.

Jack didn't stay the entire time they were at the saloon, leaving to go back to Lydia and his father after a while. But he was there again when evening fell and the group was heading for the evening stage.

"Well, you look like you've had a good time of it," he commented.

"We have indeed," Bret said. "Both of us came out winners. And if anyone didn't like it, they didn't do anything about it today. But maybe ol' Snakes being around helped that along."

"Most people in town won't make a move if I'm around, unless they know I'm okay with it," Snakes said.

"I have to admit, there _are_ occasional perks to knowing someone who runs a town," Beau said.

"Now, Beau, I'd hate to think what Pappy would say if he heard you say that," Bret drawled.

"Luckily, he's not around to hear it," Beau said. "And this time we're just in time. The evening stage is just pulling in."

"Lydia and Father should be along to bid you Farewell," Jack said, glancing over his shoulder.

When he turned back, a man dressed very similarly to Bret was getting off the stage. He stood staring, unable to believe what he was seeing. "Beau?" he ventured slowly, bewildered.

"Hello, Cousin Bart," said Beau with an awkward smile.

Bart started and turned to the one who had spoken, then looked back to Jack. "Okay, clearly I'm missing something here," he said. "Brother Bret, Cousin Beau, what _is_ this?!"

"It's a long story, I'm afraid," Beau said.

"But this is Jack Vandergelt the Third," Bret added helpfully. "Van, this is my brother Bart. I believe you remember him from the train where we met."

"Oh. Yes," said Jack, "although we didn't get a formal introduction." He held out a hand. "How do you do? It's always a pleasure to meet a Maverick."

Bart slowly shook his hand, still confused. "Hello, I think."

Beau laughed. "It looks like we won't be leaving tonight. Cousin Bart, what are you doing here?"

Bart started again and looked to him. "I was looking for you, actually," he said. "I was in the area and thought I'd stop in at Willow Tree Junction to see you, but you weren't there. They said this was the next closest town, so since my horse was worn-out I hopped on the stage to come see if you were here."

"I'm glad you did," Beau said sincerely. "It's always the most enjoyable when we're all together." He looked to Snakes, who was standing by in the shadows. "Snakes? Are you still leaving?"

"Snakes?!" Bart exclaimed.

"I'm still deciding," Snakes said. "But . . . oh, what the heck. Maybe another few hours won't hurt. I'll go tomorrow." He came over closer to the group, waving the stage on as he did. "I see you've completely mended from that knife wound," he said to Bart. "I heard that you were doing fine."

"Yes, I am," said Bart. "But this is some reunion. What are _you_ doing here?"

Snakes smirked. "This is my town."

"Another of them," Bret added.

Bart shook his head. "I should have figured I'd walk into another one sometime." He looked over the group again. "But this must be some story."

"You could say that," Beau agreed. "Let's go back to the hotel and we'll tell you all about it."

"Okay," Bart agreed. "But what kind of a name is Bent Spoon, anyway?"

"Well, I'll tell you, Cousin Bart," Beau said grandly. "It was named for a man who sat on his spoon and bent it."

Bart shook his head. "I had to ask."

Snakes laughed under his breath. "That's what they all say."

With that the group turned and headed back up the wooden walkway in unity. There would always be more troubles ahead for all of them, but for now, even for just a few hours, all was well.

It was a good feeling.


End file.
